Gods Bless Accidental Magic
by TheZaeron
Summary: Everybody has their limits. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will break many of them… and not all intentionally. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will learn what it means to be broken in turn. There is a great power in friendship, but there is just as great a power in fear. (Crossover occurs late in the story.) My gratitude to betas Arnel and BobVosh.
1. 01 - Prologue

A/N: Having started this on the Harry/Ginny site Sink Into Your Eyes, I decided to keep this off FF until which crossover it was became obvious. So, here we are...

Ron was getting really sick of being overshadowed. All of his brothers had already started at Hogwarts, and all of them had been brilliant in their own ways. Bill the Head Boy, Charlie the Quidditch Captain, Percy the Prefect, and Fred and George were the pranksters, and more popular than any before. He'd been hoping to find something special for himself now that he was going to Hogwarts. He'd thought it was his turn. But no. Not only was he evidently in Harry Potter's year, his little sister had just Apparated into their compartment on the _moving_ Hogwarts Express. Apparated!

He sighed and went back to staring out of the window. He couldn't tease her for her obvious crush on Harry as Fred and George were doing. His heart just wasn't in it. They had apparently been going to meet up with Lee Jordan and his tarantula — Ron shuddered involuntarily — but Ginny's almost ridiculous display of accidental magic was far more interesting. He wondered if he would ever be recognised for something he did. It certainly didn't look that way at the moment.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley had managed to keep serious expressions through their teasing for one minute, maybe two. But a lifetime of pranking couldn't train you to keep a straight face in this situation. Ginny was sitting on the end of a bench that Harry Potter — the Boy Who Lived — was occupying. She was blushing so furiously she might as well have been some kind of warning beacon. They somehow managed to avoid the glances they were throwing each other. Ginny wanted to sit close to Harry, but was too embarrassed. Harry wanted to talk to Ginny or something, but didn't want to make her more uncomfortable. Not that the twins were helping, but hey, who said Ginny's romantic interests were their responsibility? They had a reputation to keep, not to mention this was the most hilarious thing they'd seen in years.

They were grinning so much it hurt, and with good reason. It didn't really matter how long Ginny would be with them. This was going to be bloody brilliant.

* * *

' _This cannot be happening!_ ' Ginny thought. She wanted to hex Fred and George so badly. However, she was not producing any more accidental magic just then. Maybe the Apparating thing had drained her a bit, for she hadn't even managed the stinging hex she'd accomplished four years ago. She still hadn't a clue how it had happened. One moment she'd been in the car with her parents thinking of Harry Potter and her brothers, and then she'd felt the same way as when she'd been taken by Side-Along Apparition for the first time. There was an immense pressure on her from all sides, and then she was on the train. Just like that.

Her mother was going to be in a fit, but that was nothing compared to her situation right now. She was mere feet away from Harry Potter, and those two gits had to make it hell for her! She glanced back at the object of her dreams, and their eyes met. The stream of torment from the twins came to an abrupt halt, since they were practically rolling on the floor laughing. She didn't take her brown eyes off his green ones. Then, a small smile crossed his face, and she ducked her head. She knew that her blushing was already pretty obvious, but it was more an involuntary move. She glanced back, and he was still gazing at her with a slightly wider smile. Her already racing heart took on an even more frantic pace.

* * *

Harry couldn't believe how good life was without the Dursleys, his adoptive family. Or maybe it was how good life was with magic. He couldn't tell, but he didn't really care that much since he had both. He'd like to think he now had two friends, or close to that, in Ron and Hagrid, the giant of a man who'd rescued him from the Dursleys. He wasn't too sure about Ron's twin brothers, but they seemed good-natured enough. Then there was Ron's sister. According to Fred and George, she had a huge crush on him, and this seemed to be true. Harry wasn't complaining about the crush, but Fred and George's teasing had been driving him mad. At least they'd stopped now. To be honest, he'd barely noticed her crush. He'd caught her looking at him, and she'd caught him, so she couldn't blame him if he kept staring. She was ... pretty. There was something about her...

"Excuse me, have any of you seen a toad?" Some random girl had just turned up at the door. She turned up her nose at the twins clutching each other for support, and then looked at Ron. "You got some dirt on your nose, by the way. So — holy cricket, you're Harry Potter!"

 _'_ _Enough with everyone oohing and aahing already,'_ Harry thought, groaning. He'd been getting that sort of reaction for as long as he'd been amongst wizard folk. To be fair, that time summed up to about a day at this point, but it was already wearing on him.

Harry Potter was a remarkable 11 year old boy. It wasn't just because he was on a train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (a train he had gotten to through a secret passage at King's Cross Station). Every man, woman and child in the magical world knew his name, and for a while, most had even celebrated an annual Harry Potter Day. They had done so because in the midst of all-out war, a time when the British wizard population was halved, a one year old boy had survived where thousands of trained wizards and civilians both magical and not had fallen. This child, targeted inexplicably by the insurgent Lord Voldemort, had been hit with the Killing Curse. The curse, which had slain both of Harry's parents, rebounded and destroyed Voldemort, leaving the infant boy with nothing but a conspicuous, lightning bolt shaped scar.

The highly recognisable scar was what was bringing all the blasted attention. It wasn't like he'd stood up at fourteen months old and told Voldemort where he could stick his wand. Something had happened that no one could explain, and that was ultimately what he was. Whether his uncle was beating him, his aunt was locking him in his cupboard under the stairs, or random people were writing about his so called achievement as this girl was telling him they had, it was always because he was a _freak_.

"No, we haven't seen a toad," he answered curtly.

The girl looked vaguely offended at his cutting her off like that, but she got the message. "Alright. Well, if you see one, a boy called Neville has lost his..."

Harry nodded vaguely at her then returned his attentions to Ginny. He knew that she wouldn't be at Hogwarts this year, so he decided to make the most of what time she would be there.

"Hi," he said to break the silence. "Um, they're your and Ron's brothers, right?"

"Yeah. The prats," she replied. He grinned, and she smiled back.

Deciding that it wasn't a good idea to go back to staring now that he'd started a conversation, he broke out of his reverie. "Well, that was pretty impressive. I mean, I don't know much about magic, but I reckon it's got to be pretty amazing to be able to teleport before you've even gone to Hogwarts."

"Teleport? What's that?"

"Oh, um, I don't know what wizards called it. Muggles call disappearing from one place and appearing in another place teleporting. What do you call it?"

"Apparating. Why do they call it teleporting?"

Harry racked his brains, wanting to say something a bit more intelligent than 'not a clue'. "Um... ports are places where ships and stuff come and go from, so it's something to do with coming and going I guess. But what's it like? It didn't look much like the Muggle versions of teleporting."

"Muggles can Apparate?" she looked half-shocked, half-awed despite the residual embarrassment.

"No, but they have teleporting in movies and television. There's usually a big flash of light and then boom, they're gone. I'm not sure how it works, because I don't really get to watch movies much." He felt his blush run up his neck, but ignored it. He wouldn't tell anyone about the Dursleys if he could help it. He was going to start again at Hogwarts, where they couldn't touch him.

"Wow. Dad mentioned movies once. Like a photo with sound, right?"

"Yeah, sound and movement."

"Photos have movement."

Harry squinted at her. Was she trying to take the mickey, or did photos in the wizarding world really move? "Um, Muggle photos don't move."

"Really? Magic ones do. So people just stay still in the Muggle ones?"

"Yeah."

"Here, Harry, look," Ron gave him a card out of one of the chocolate frogs they had gotten from the food trolley earlier. Ginny had provided ample distraction from food when she appeared ten seconds later. He stared at an image of Albus Dumbledore as it scratched its nose and readjusted its glasses.

"Wow." He noticed Ginny was a bit closer now. He budged up a bit himself, and her blush reasserted itself. He just smiled at her, and she slid away until they were a normal distance from each other. It didn't escape his notice that Fred and George had burst into laughter again, though they had managed to stay on the bench this time. "You're right. They're complete prats."

She leaned in, grinning suddenly. "If you let me borrow your wand, I know a really useful hex," she whispered.

He grinned back, "Alright." He pulled his wand from his pocket and gave it to her. "Go on then, Ginny. Do your worst."

She took the wand, and met his eyes briefly, but was unable to hold her composure, and had to quickly turn back towards the twins. "You two can thank Bill next time you see him," she said. He watched as they turned slowly, comprehension dawning in their faces along with a definite horror. "Eruptus Nasus Chiroptera!" she cried.

Ron looked up from his cauldron cake in shock, while Harry watched in awe. Snot with bat-like wings was flying out of their noses and attacking their faces mercilessly. Yelling, they tore out of the compartment, no doubt to find their friend Lee Jordan. Harry's glee, however, was cut short.

"Ah, so you're Harry Potter, are you? I did wonder about your parents." It was the blond boy from Madam Malkin's. "I see your taste in company hasn't changed much. I could help you there. The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He heard Ron snort, while Ginny looked like she wanted to start a fight. Seeing the bodyguard-like figures either side of Malfoy, Harry quickly stood in front of Ginny. "You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair, and hand-me-down robes? You two must be Weasleys. How did you afford the sweets? Did you have to save up all year?"

Ginny growled behind him, so he decided to step in sharpish. "I suggest you leave now, Malfoy," he said. "Ginny here is very good with her hexes, and your _friends_ look like they still need help with their shoelaces."

Malfoy sneered, but left all the same. He couldn't seem to resist a parting line, though. "You've made an enemy today, Potter. You'll want to be careful, or you might meet the same sticky end as your parents."

Harry growled this time, and though Ginny held the wand, it was Harry's will that commanded it as it exploded with incredible light and sound. A bluish spell none of them recognised raced out of the door and hurled the three boys down the corridor. Ron jumped with shock at the noise, and ran to look at what became of the boys.

"And stay out!" Ginny laughed. He decided he liked her laugh quite a bit.

"Er, was that you or Harry that cast that spell?" Ron asked from the doorway.

"I think it was Harry," Ginny said.

"Those three are going to need the Hospital Wing," Ron half-groaned.

Getting up to see what Ron meant, Harry wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified. The three of them were jerking and twitching on the ground, blue crackles of electricity jumping between and over their bodies.

"That... looks familiar... So maybe it really is dangerous, then, the stuff Dad messes around with," Ginny said to Ron, who nodded dumbly.

"What stuff?" asked Harry, who, unbeknownst to her, was picturing doing the same thing to Dudley Dursley, his fat bully of a cousin, and his gang over and over in his head.

"He messes around with loads of Muggle stuff for a hobby. Usually electrical things," she elaborated.

"Well, unless he sticks his finger in a wall socket, or climbs a pylon, he should be fine."

She looked completely baffled, so he went on to give them a quick lesson in electricity.

* * *

They had finally reached their destination. As he stepped out onto the platform behind Ginny, Harry was forcibly reminded of his uncle's comments about a train being an odd form of transport to a magic school. There didn't seem to be anything at all remarkable about this place. Then again, in this light he could barely make out the metal fencing on the side of the platform. He, Ginny and Ron followed Hagrid away from the station onto a winding path, which seemed pretty eerie in the dark. He walked a little closer to Ginny and Ron, and she smirked up at him. For some reason, he didn't want to stop looking at her face. He could count the freckles, even in the dim wash from Hagrid's lamp and the few lights along the path.

"Ye should ge' yer firs' look o' the place any momen'," Hagrid boomed. He saw Ginny gasp, and tore his eyes away, only to have them glued to another sight. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Hogwarts Castle and it was magnificent. There wasn't any point in trying to describe it any further. You had to see it for yourself. He didn't notice when Hagrid stopped. He only removed his eyes from the unbelievable future ahead of him when Ginny grabbed his hand. He'd wandered into a lake. Brilliant.

"Honestly, Harry, you have to look where you're going." She said as she blushed, obviously realising she was still holding his hand, but she didn't let go.

"Yeah, mate," Ron added. "Any further and the squid would've had you!" Harry stepped back out of the water.

"Squid?" they both asked, turning quickly to look at him.

"Yeah. Charlie told me there's a Giant Squid in there."

"Blimey..." Harry murmured.

"Yeah, I know."

"If yer done tryin' ter drown yerself, let's all get in the boats, eh?" Hagrid called. "No more'n four to a boat!" Harry climbed in with Ron and Ginny. "Everyone in? FORWARD!" Hagrid was in a boat on his own, and no-one needed to row. Instead, the whole fleet floated towards the castle of their own accord. Ginny went to the front and turned so she was facing Ron and Harry. She was staring at him again. Harry wasn't sure whether he was going to stare at the castle or her, so he stared at his knees instead.

"Alrigh' everybody, duck!"

"What?" Ginny asked distractedly.

Harry dived forwards and pushed her over just as they went under a load of ivy and began travelling through a low brick tunnel. He scrambled back to the bench, grinning at her surprised expression. There was a muffled yelp as someone moved a little too slowly.

"Take tha' as yer firs' lesson," Hagrid boomed. "Magic isn't always gonna be playin' nice with ye. Pay attention to the professors an' ye'll be fine. If ye' don't... We got a hospital wing."

He heard Malfoy laughing somewhere behind. It seemed he'd recovered in the few hours since their coming together. He wondered if Malfoy would try to get him in trouble. He didn't voice his concerns though. Ginny was looking at him in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Ron was sniggering to himself about something or other, and Harry was quite glad when the boat stopped.

They clambered out, and followed Hagrid with everyone else, until they met a stern-looking woman at the castle's main doors.

Her voice rang clear over the mutterings of the new students. "Miss Weasley? If you'll follow me, please."

 _'Damn, won't I even get to spend the night?'_ Ginny waved back at Ron and Harry, then felt herself blush slightly when Harry waved back. Ron was too busy laughing to himself. _'Get a grip on yourself, Ginny! You've spent half a day with him, and you go red just because he waves? Urgh!'_

They walked swiftly, Ginny jogging to keep up. McGonagall didn't even glance at her, which worried her slightly. Things were easier with her mother, since you always knew where you stood. McGonagall wasn't giving anything away, and while she was sure she hadn't done anything wrong, that didn't mean she wasn't nervous.

Not nervous enough to miss the wonders of the place she was being led through, though. If she'd thought the castle was enormous when she was outside, it was nothing to being inside. The ceilings of the normal corridors had to be at least eight metres above her head. The Entrance Hall had to have a twenty metre ceiling, though. It was ridiculous — even Charlie's graphic descriptions weren't a scratch on the reality of Hogwarts.

She was still lost in the magnificence of her ancient surroundings when they stopped in front of a gargoyle in the wall.

"Raspberry jam," she heard McGonagall say. She jumped slightly. _'Of all the things...'_ But then she realised it was a password, as the gargoyle began to twist and rise. Into view came a stone stairway, which she and the Transfiguration Professor stepped onto. All of a sudden, she knew exactly where she was. Bill had told her about it, having been summoned here a couple of times while Head Boy. She was going to the Headmaster's office, which meant she was surely about to meet...

"Come in, Professor McGonagall, Miss Weasley," the old wizard behind the desk politely intoned. He was an exact match to his Chocolate Frog Card, despite the fact that the picture in those was captured at least fifteen years ago. He still had the same, long white hair and beard, the same twinkling, piercing blue eyes, and that feeling of power and benevolence. "Thank you for escorting our young guest here."

Ginny looked into his eyes, which were still twinkling, and got a rather odd feeling. It was one that scared her slightly. He seemed to be looking into her very soul.

"Perhaps you should return to the feast, Professor. One of us ought to be present, and I can make the beginning of term announcements after the meal, just this once, if required. However, I would be grateful if you would save me a few treacle tarts — they always seem best at the Welcoming and Leaving Feasts."

"Of course, Headmaster," she replied. She gave Ginny an appraising look, then turned and left.

"I suppose we really ought to keep this brief, since I'm sure you would like to be able to eat in the Great Hall with everyone else." Ginny nodded, feeling a touch jittery. After all, this was the greatest wizard of the age she was talking to. "You appear to have displayed some quite extraordinary accidental magic. It might interest you to know that the last person to accidentally Apparate was, in fact, Harry Potter."

She perked up at this. It was a pretty weird thing to have in common, but still... Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle a little more, and the corners of his mouth twitched. It was all she could do not to slump in her chair. Her brothers were bad enough, but she could deal with them. This was just ridiculous.

"You seem to have quite a history of accidental magic. What was that last thing you did? Oh, yes, of course. Now I remember. There was quite the clean-up operation after that one, wasn't there?"

Ginny blushed. It had been the last time she'd been taken to Diagon Alley, the magically hidden high street in London. The twins had insisted on finding every book concerned with Harry they could (was it just her or did most of the big things in her life seem to involve him?), and she'd gotten so mad she'd created a sort of explosion. It had not been pretty. She didn't even remember exactly what the result was, since she was left dazed for a couple of hours afterwards.

"Ah, now, I'm drifting off-topic. You see, now that you're here, there are two options. We can get you back home, either by a Portkey or Floo. Or you can stay. I would prefer that you stayed. The wards here will help to protect against any, ahem, unfortunate consequences of your abilities. After all, Apparition is a big step. There isn't really much you can do, since you can't be accepted into any classes yet. However, should you stay, you would sleep with the first year girls, and I'm sure being here for a year will make your own first year far easier. Now, I am waiting for your parents to arrive, since legally it is their decision, but I am sure they will listen to whatever you have to say on the subject."

Her eyes were wide. _'I can stay at Hogwarts? A whole extra year here? No way...'_ Dumbledore's eyes were still twinkling in that merry way, but Ginny was too distracted to notice, let alone care. _'I won't have to do all the chores by myself. I'll be with everyone else. And Harry...'_ A slight blush rose to her cheeks at this thought, and Dumbledore seemed to fight down a chuckle. Just then, the fireplace erupted into green flames, just as a large, beautiful bird on a grand perch burst into orange ones and disappeared.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore." Her father was soon followed by her mother. "A pity we missed Fawkes. He looks as magnificent as ever."

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley, Mrs Weasley. I am sure you know why we are here," he said, standing to greet her parents.

"Yes, Professor, and we're taking her home. Right now," her mother declared. _'Urgh!'_

"Now, Molly..." Arthur said quietly.

"No, don't _now, Molly_ me Arthur! She'll be coming back with us right this instant."

Professor Dumbledore seemed to hold her mother's gaze for an unnatural amount of time. Ginny looked between them curiously. "Molly, doesn't Ginny get some say in this?" Dad pressed. "She has been miserable about not being able to be with her brothers, and you must admit she'd be far happier with other kids her age. Besides, beyond her emotional wellbeing, she clearly needs tuition beyond our capabilities. Accidental Apparition is nigh on unheard of."

Her mother seemed to deflate at the thought that she'd be unhappy, and Ginny nursed a small hope that she might actually be allowed to stay. It wasn't that she didn't love the Burrow, or her parents. But on her own? With all the chores? With only Luna, the quiet, odd girl she talked to occasionally for company? Nice as the girl over the north hills might be, it just didn't have the same attraction.

Her father turned to her. "Ginny, do you want to stay at Hogwarts, or come home?"

"I want to stay at Hogwarts, Dad! Mum, please..."

"Come now, Molly, I'm sure Ron and Percy will take excellent care of her."

"The twins..." she began, but caught herself, and they all shared smiles. "Oh, I don't know about this. It's so very sudden. Professor, would she be starting her first year this term?"

"No," Professor Dumbledore said. "The school registers pupils of its own accord, and Ginny is to start her education her in September of 1992. I don't believe that anything untoward would come to pass if we overruled Hogwarts's judgement in this, but why rock the boat unnecessarily?" All the time that he talked, Mum's face was relaxing perceptibly. It disconcerted Ginny a great deal to see this, but she supposed that Mum really respected the old Professor. "I give you my word, Molly, Arthur, I will take it upon myself personally to ensure that she gains full control over her power."

Ginny blinked. _'Does that mean... lessons with Professor Dumbledore?'_ Such a prospect was not one to be turned down lightly.

"Yes..." Mum said slowly. "Maybe I was a bit rash. Still, Ginny, if there's the slightest bit of trouble..."

Ginny smiled as innocently as she could. "Mum, what do you expect me to do? There's already Fred and George to keep things lively!"

This time both Dumbledore and her dad couldn't help but snort as they tried to hold back a laugh, while Mum gave them dirty looks.

"Well, just behave yourself, and I suppose you can stay."

"Thanks, Mum!" she cried, running up to her and giving her a big hug. _'Yes! Yes! YES!_ '

"Well, I believe that concludes matters for today," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Yes, of course," she said. "Good night, Professor. Remember to write, Ginny dear. I'll want weekly updates!"

Dad chuckled, and followed Mum into the Floo.

"That's settled then," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling. "Now, follow me, Miss Weasley." She followed the Headmaster out of his office and along a couple of corridors before they entered an unused classroom.

"Professor?" she hesitantly asked.

"Ah, yes. I haven't quite explained myself, have I? You entered my office exactly twenty minutes ago. The Sorting began fifteen minutes ago. You need to be Sorted, and I have a device to get you there."

Her eyes went wide. "A time-turner?"

Dad had mentioned such a device a few years ago. It was only a rumour that had spread through the Ministry, of an Unspeakable who'd been killed experimenting with time travel. A series of laws had been passed relating to time magic regulation, but such a vast swathe of regulations had been affected that no one could figure out what had happened. All anyone knew was that Rhianne Travers was never seen again.

"Near enough," Dumbledore replied with a little smile. "Hold out your hand. I find the Muggle controlling systems so much easier than wizard ones. Those displays are quite brilliant. Right. Twenty minutes ought to do it. And go!"

She grabbed onto one of the metal rings that seemed to form orbits around the spherical device. She felt as though she was being stretched, shaken and tossed about for about a second, then just felt really dizzy.

"I must say I am impressed. I fell over the first time. And your first seems considerably less messy."

She grinned. _'Dumbledore being sick. I wonder how long it took to clean the beard out?'_

"Now, we just wait for Professor McGonagall to pass us by, and we go swiftly on our way. I like to keep this my little secret." He tapped the little sphere with his wand, shrinking it from the size of a quaffle to the size of a snitch, and tucked it safely into a top pocket. McGonagall passed not a second later, and they waited until her footsteps had faded completely before following. After a few minutes, the Headmaster stopped. "Here we must part ways. Through that door there is the Entrance Hall, and I assume you know which door leads to the Great Hall? They are the large ones with no bars across them. I must, of course, go to dine with the teachers. Good luck with the Sorting." And with that he strode off.

Ginny walked quickly to the door, but then decided to wait a moment, since she would surely have taken some time in the Headmaster's office, and it wouldn't make sense for her to appear so suddenly. There had only been about a two minute gap left by waiting for McGonagall. After a couple of minutes, she went through, and then entered the Great Hall. She drew a few looks, but the Sorting Hat was singing, and everyone was distracted. She made her way to the first years, and waited.

"Hey, Ginny, what's going on?" It was Harry.

 _"You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart."_

"Um, well, I'm staying at Hogwarts this year," she answered, only glancing at him before staring at her shoes. She didn't want to start blushing again.

 _"You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil."_

Harry beamed. "That's brilliant!"

 _"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind."_

She could feel the blush coming on again, but gave up on worrying about it. She'd be spending a whole year around him, and she didn't want to have to spend the whole damn year trying to keep her complexion. "Yeah, well... I have to be Sorted, so, well, I hope I'm in Gryffindor."

 _"Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends."_

Harry suddenly looked a little troubled. "I, um, don't really know about the Houses. I know I don't want to be in Slytherin." A little nervous smile appeared. "I hope I'm in Gryffindor if you are."

 _"So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

 _'_ _Blasted blush!'_ she thought, knowing it was slowly spreading. The hall burst into thunderous applause as the song ended, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment, waiting impatiently for everyone to vent their feelings. "Um, thanks, Harry," she offered in reply. _'Why is it that an hour ago I could talk properly and now I'm back to stuttering? Urgh!'_

"Hey, Ron!" Harry whispered to the red-haired boy just ahead of him. "What house do you want to be in?"

"Gryffindor. All my brothers — all my family are in it," he answered nonchalantly.

"Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called. Ginny turned to the front to watch. It was a bit easier to keep her eyes off Harry now that she knew she'd be spending the year with him. She was a Weasley — destined to be a Gryffindor; he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and if he didn't deserve to be a Gryffindor, no-one did.

* * *

Harry's head was in the clouds. Or at least, that was what it felt like. Hogwarts was real, and he was here, and he would spend seven years here with people he got along with, learning about magic. Looking to Ginny, he noticed that she seemed to be avoiding his eyes, hers being fixed on the person currently being Sorted, Millicent Bulstrode.

He wondered how the Hat was able to see into people's heads, but dismissed the thought. _'You are in an ancient school of magic,' he thought. 'If there is a hat in the world that can read minds, it ought to be here.'_ He held a muttered discussion with Ron about the different Houses until Ron nudged him.

"I can't believe it!" he said suddenly.

"What?" Harry answered.

"You know the girl who kept reciting from the textbooks on the way up here?"

"The one who asked about the toad on the train?"

"Yeah, look where she's ended up." He followed Ron's horrified gaze and saw her sitting opposite Percy at the Gryffindor table. "I thought she was Ravenclaw for sure! She is going to be _unbearable_."

Hermione, he thought her name was. Hermione Granger. She'd come back after the whole toad thing and started to genuinely annoy them with her superior attitude, suggesting that they were clearly fools for not having gone to her astronomical effort to prepare academically. She ran off when Ginny recited the twelve uses of dragon's blood. Presumably she wanted to do more reading. "We can just ignore her," Harry suggested.

"Yeah..."

"Malfoy, Draco!" McGonagall shouted, getting their attention.

' _Please, don't Sort him! Please don't Sort him!_ ' Harry quickly thought.

"He'll be a Slytherin... yep." Ron shook his head and turned to look at the Slytherin table. Harry, following Ron's eyes again, wondered whether it was just because of the things he'd been told about them, but the Slytherins did seem to be a mean bunch to him. "Honestly, did you see that? I don't think the Hat even touched him!"

"Yeah..." Harry looked over at Ginny, but she was still staring blankly at the space where the first years' heads were meant to be, even though Mallone was still only halfway to the stool. Intrigued, he nudged her lightly, and she jumped about a foot in the air.

"Harry!" she said in reaction.

"What?" he replied, trying an innocent look but probably failing miserably. She, on the other hand, was colouring up rapidly.

"I — never mind," she breathed. She turned away again abruptly, leaving Harry quite bewildered. He got a tap on the shoulder, and turned to see an Indian girl and her twin sister.

"Patil, Padma!"

One of the girls walked off, but the other leaned in and whispered in his ear. "That girl has a —"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Ooh, I knew it!"

"Patil, Parvati!"

"Wait, what's she got?" he exclaimed, but she'd already gone. He turned back to Ginny, who was looking at Parvati with a part shocked, part horrified expression. "What was she on about? And what's wrong, Ginny?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

"It, um, doesn't matter," Ginny replied.

"Perks, Sally-Ann!" McGonagall said, continuing on.

"But what did she mean? What do you have?" Harry questioned.

To his surprise, she blushed deeply and muttered something incoherent.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted again.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called. Silence descended upon the Great Hall, while Ron gave him a little nudge.

He did not notice the stares and whispers as he wandered over to the stool on which the Sorting Hat rested. He was still lost in thought as to what exactly the girl had meant about Ginny, and why she seemed so embarrassed about it. _'If you write all these mysteries in your life down, Harry, you could write a whole damn book.'_ He pulled on the hat and dropped onto the stool to await the declaration of whatever his house was going to be.

 ** _'Ah, Harry Potter...'_** the hat began. **_'But, what's this? I've not seen this before, at least I don't think I have. The memory isn't what it used to be, you know... Hmm, very peculiar. There's another resident in there, eh? Not to worry, it doesn't look at all hostile. Doesn't look like much at all, really. Still... Never mind. That's not my purpose. Which house will the Boy Who Lived be put in? You seem to possess so many of their traits. Courageous and loyal, not a slow mind and quite devious, too... So where to put you? You'd do quite well in any house, although, there's something about you that calls to Slytherin...'_**

Harry's eyes widened in fear and shock. **_'Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin! Anywhere but Slytherin!'_**

 ** _'Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head. Hmm, well then, I think you really ought to be in...'_**

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He breathed a sigh of relief with the hat's announcement. That had been altogether too close. Everyone at the Gryffindor table was on their feet, while Fred and George chanted 'We got Potter' over and over again. He grinned at Ron and Ginny, who blushed again absurdly, and went to sit near Percy. But as he sat, he began to wonder what it was about him that was so closely tied to Slytherin. Then he froze as the entire conversation sunk in. _'Another resident in my mind?!'_

* * *

Ginny waited with baited breath for her name to be called, but it wasn't. Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, and then the last person, a tall, dark skinned boy by the name of Blaise Zabini, was sorted into Slytherin. She was standing there, every eye in the hall on her as people wondered what was going to happen to her. She was rather curious herself.

Professor McGonagall looked at her for a long moment. "Additionally, Weasley, Ginevra."

There were a lot of whispers, but Ginny ignored them, walked up to the stool and sat on it, the Hat poised above her head. She took one look at Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, who were smiling encouragingly at her, before dropping the Hat over her head, and letting the world go black.

 ** _'Hello, Miss Weasley. Funny that, you seem rather familiar. Just something about you. Hmm... Enough of that. There's only one place for a Weasley, and nothing about you disagrees.'_**

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	2. 02 - Awakenings

Harry had spent the whole night gazing out at the castle from his dormitory window and was completely knackered. He hadn't even noticed how tired he was, so lost was he in the grandeur, the sheer magnificence of what was before him. Still, when he tried to get to bed, he found the sensations unbearable. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, he threw the covers aside, got dressed and went down to the common room. The fire was still lit, and he found a large, comfortable armchair right in front of it.

He had only been in dreamland for about half an hour when he felt a presence. Well, two actually. The first was somewhere to his right. He could place that one quite definitely, but not give it shape, size, or any kind of identity. He could only tell it was there. The other was in his own head, and this one he could not describe at all, except maybe to say that something was waking up.

 _'Harry, that's you, you plank.'_ He tried to comfort himself with this thought, but it wouldn't settle in his head. Somehow, he just knew it was something else.

The flickering light of the common room fire pulled his eyelids, kicking and screaming, open, and showed him...

"Ginny."

She smiled slightly, looking a little groggy herself, although he had no doubt that he looked far worse.

"Hey, Harry," she whispered back.

He suddenly realised he'd been looking into her eyes for quite a while and coughed, looking towards the fire instead.

"Um, what time is it?" he asked quietly, unsure of why they were conversing in whispers and murmurs but unable to buck the trend now that they were.

"About four," she replied. She sat down gently on the arm of his chair and let her legs swing a little.

"Get much sleep?" he asked, keeping his eyes resolutely on the flames before him.

"A lot more than you, by the look of it," she said, and giggled when he groaned and flopped over the other arm of the chair. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing. I just... never mind," he muttered, sinking back into the chair slightly.

"Tell me what's wrong, Harry. Please?" He turned to look at her, and it was his undoing. He just knew he couldn't not talk to her, not trust her, as soon as he looked into those big, brown eyes.

"I just ... well, I'm not used to this," he managed, hesitantly. When she didn't say anything, he went on. "It's just so, so comfortable and nice and... It's weird. I can't explain it."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "It's pretty brilliant. I love it back at the Burrow, but this is like the lap of luxury or something. What's it like back home for you, Harry?"

He couldn't help it; he turned completely away from her. He couldn't let her or anyone else know what his life had been like before Hagrid came.

"It doesn't matter," he finally said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Harry..."

"No," he said sharply. _'Why do I not like that look on her face right now?'_

"And what if I asked Hagrid?"

"Ginny..." She was smirking with pride at her victory. And it was a victory, he knew it. She was never going to let go of this.

"Come on, Harry..."

"Leave it alone," he grumbled.

"Harry, you can trust me," she said soothingly. She slipped into the large armchair beside him, and he scooted over, not wanting her to lull him into giving something away.

"It's a pretty long story."

"I guessed, but I'm not all that bothered," she said, nodding towards the window, which was glowing with a golden light from the newly risen sun. Harry didn't even notice what she was talking about for a while - he'd been watching how her hair seemed to shimmer with the light.

"Look, you probably don't even want to know..." Harry began.

"Yes, I do," she contested fervently.

"You don't know what it is," Harry challenged.

"So I can't decide yet," Ginny fired back. "Better to know and try to forget than to live the rest of your life wondering."

"Did you come up with that?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged and smiled.

"Either way, I don't want to say," Harry said, "so just let it go."

"But why, Harry?" Ginny wheedled. "We're friends, aren't we? We can tell each other things."

"You wouldn't want to be my friend," Harry said quietly.

"That's a load of crap, Harry," Ginny replied defiantly. "Real friends don't stop being friends over stuff that happened in the past. Dad said so, and Bill agrees with him."

"You don't want to know this," Harry protested again. _'Things are going so well! Let it stay that way for crying out loud.'_

"Let me decide that," Ginny replied.

"Can't you just forget about this?" Harry asked desperately. "As a favour? I'd do anything!"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said softly. "You really shouldn't make offers like that, especially with the twins around. I'll take you up on that."

Harry's alarm at her initial response dissipated as she agreed to his request. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Oh, I doubt it," she replied. "In return, I'd like you to remind me about this, and explain it in detail. Now."

Harry gaped. Betrayal.

She shrugged. "I'm good at getting my way, Harry. I'm sorry, really, but I'd have found out anyway."

He gritted his teeth and turned away again. "Fine."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "If it's that serious, you should tell someone anyway. Bill always says it's not healthy to keep stuff bottled up."

"You got more tips from the big brother on hand?" Harry sighed, resigned to the situation. "Like maybe how to keep his little sister from asking personal questions?"

"Possibly, but he was never very good at that," she giggled. "Go on, Harry. No matter what it is, we're still friends, I swear it. I swear it on... Dammit, I swear on my power as a witch that I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, will remain the friend of Harry James Potter, regardless of whatever he may now tell me of his life before Hogwarts. I will never reveal it, willingly or otherwise to another person or people, and I shall support him through whatever is bothering him about it. So mote it be."

Her eyes filled with white light for a moment.

"Whoa," Harry breathed. "What was that?"

"Standard magically binding verbal contract," Ginny replied. "Be careful what you agree to. There are oaths that can kill you if you don't fulfil them, and worse."

"Tell me you're kidding," Harry gasped, going a little pale at the thought.

"No," Ginny said. "So you've got my word. I don't know how to do anything more advanced. I got that one from Bill. Mum wouldn't tell us how to perform any magical contracts, because Fred and George tried to get Ron to make an Unbreakable Vow. That's the one that kills you."

"They did?" Harry exclaimed, going paler still.

"I doubt they knew exactly how it was done, but they got caught anyway," Ginny answered. She left him to gather his thoughts for a bit before pressing him again. "Go on, Harry. What is it about where you live that you don't want to talk about?"

Harry struggled with himself, suddenly realising that he actually didn't know how to tell her at all. It was made worse by the fact that, despite her oath, he was trying to lessen the impact of the story. "Well, you see, the people I used to live with, um, weren't very nice," he began. Ginny's brow furrowed as she frowned slightly at him. Seeing that he wasn't getting his point across, and that she was not leaving without answers, he pushed himself on. "I wasn't really ever _home_ there, if you know what I mean. They never let me _feel_ at home, because they kind of made it clear that I wasn't _at their level_."

"Tell me what they did, Harry," she whispered softly.

"I... they..." he stammered. "They made me do everything for them since I was old enough to hold a pan," he said. The bitterness was barely noticeable over the years of resignation. "They... they beat me if I didn't get things done fast enough for them." Ginny gasped, and he glanced up at her before continuing. He'd gone too far to stop now, anyway. "My cousin, Dudley, him and his gang, well," he pointed at his heavily taped glasses, which could still clearly be seen to be broken in several places and have numerous cracks in the lenses. "And then there was the cupboard under the stairs."

"What? Did they lock you in there for punishment?" Ginny sounded quite revolted. She was trembling. It was as he feared; he'd never be accepted after his history. No one would want to be around someone like him.

"Yeah, but I sort of lived in there, too."

Ginny got up, casting about for... something. When she gave up looking for whatever it was, she dug her fingers into her palms, screwed her face up and _shook_. He squeezed his eyes shut as the whole room, maybe the whole castle, quaked violently. It seemed to him that the room was actually tilting, but then normality returned along with absolute silence. The silence lasted barely a moment as yells reverberated through the stone of the walls. To Harry, she suddenly looked quite scary. It was like she was glowing, but the light was beyond his sight. The energy radiating off her was like none he had ever experienced before, and it burned like a blowtorch in his face. He closed his eyes and turned his head, waiting for her to leave. He could already hear the building of the storm that would signal everyone leaving their dorms and charging down the stairs to find the source of the tremors. But he could still feel that same energy, and it was coming nearer. He braced himself for whatever was coming, but just heard Ginny's voice whispering in his ear, slightly erratic in her rage. "Well... you're not with them anymore, but I swear to you Harry, if you don't get there first, I will hunt them down for what they did to you."

He looked up at her in disbelief, then noticed she was a lot closer than he'd been betting on, and flushed crimson. She blinked, then gave him a reassuring sort of smile, at which his stomach did a sort of back flip.

"Oi! What's going on?!" someone cried from the crowd that was squeezing its way out of the two staircases. Ginny turned, backing away from Harry and muttering under her breath.

"Um, not a clue — the whole place just shook for a second," Harry replied quickly. He didn't want Ginny getting in trouble over this.

"What are you two doin'?" Seamus asked.

"Couldn't sleep," he and Ginny said at the same time, and entirely too quickly, though they realised this too late. Seamus started sniggering, Ron frowned a little, and the twins just smirked. There was a bit of a pile-up building at each set of stairs as everyone tried to find the source of the commotion.

"Back to bed, everyone. We'll sort it out," Percy called from somewhere on the stairs, obviously with the other male Gryffindor law keepers.

"Oh, shut it, Perce!" Ginny whispered bashfully.

"Yeah, it's already, what, four thirty? Five?" Fred added with a smirk. Or was it George?

"As good a time as any to be up, eh, Fred?" So the first one _was_ Fred, then.

"Especially if you want to do something _discretely_ ," Fred said, nodding, with a wink at Ginny. A collective snigger went up from the crowd. She scowled, but the earthquake must have totally tired her out because she didn't do anything.

"Well, if you really all want to sit around here and watch the fire die, then be my guest," said one of the male prefects, "but I'm off back to bed." Everyone else shuffled off back to bed after that. That is, everyone apart from Harry, Ginny, and Percy.

"So what _did_ happen?" Percy asked suspiciously, but evidently a little miffed that the other Prefects had abandoned him.

"I told you, Percy, I haven't got any idea," Harry replied.

"I'll have to ask Professor McGonagall, but you two are sure you didn't see or hear anything?" Percy continued.

"Yes, Perce, now move along, won't you? I'm sure you'll be quite busy, being a _prefect_ and all..." Ginny remarked caustically.

Harry could tell she'd meant the comment to be biting, but as soon as she mentioned Percy's duties as a prefect, he realised it was a lost cause. Percy puffed out his chest, nodded to them and stalked off. Ginny snorted in disgust, then dropped into the chair next to Harry's. He watched her drift off, and once he was sure she was truly sleeping, whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

"So, Gin-gin, a whole year ahead of you..."

"In the place of your dreams..."

"Maybe with a few people from your dreams, too." George or Fred winked at her, and she glared back. They really weren't going to leave her alone. Ignoring them, she sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Harry and began to eat. She could feel them smirking in her direction as they walked off.

She looked around the room. Every single person looked at least fully awake, if not openly excited. Harry's hand brushed hers as he reached for the ketchup and she felt her face light up.

"Hey, look! McGonagall's handing out our timetables," said one of the other boys in Harry's dorm. She sighed. Hogwarts was enormous and wonderful, but a whole year without anything to really _do_ was bound to get boring. Eventually. She still planned to find every single secret passage, talk to all of the ghosts, explore the grounds, fly freely on a broomstick and maybe even play some actual Quidditch...

"Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. She looked up, and gasped. Professor McGonagall was holding out a timetable to _her_.

"But Professor," Ginny exclaimed, "I thought I wouldn't be able to attend the first-year classes until next year!"

"I, as well as the rest of the faculty, see no reason for you to spend a whole year here twiddling your thumbs," McGonagall said. "It would be pointless to put you in all of the first-year classes, obviously, as you would be forced to stay a year ahead your whole school life. For this year, you will attend slightly less than a week of classes with the current first year, and instead receive an education based around magic itself. Usually, some basic control over magic is taught at home prior to schooling, but it is a difficult thing. You have displayed great potential with your, ahem, unusual arrival on the train, and we, that is to say, myself and Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick, will be helping you to control your talents."

She was speechless. The only way the year could get any more perfect was if... She felt the heat rise in her cheeks again, and glanced quickly at Harry. Thankfully, he didn't notice, for he was laughing about something or other with Ron. "Thank you, Professor!"

McGonagall, as ever, didn't really smile, but nodded curtly and turned to the Irish boy in their year.

"Wow, I can't believe you'll be getting an education like that — you're so lucky!" someone said. Ginny turned towards the voice, finding it to be the girl from the train. "What was Professor McGonagall talking about when she said you had an 'unusual arrival'? Are you too young to be at Hogwarts? How come they allowed you to stay, then? I'm sure it's never been allowed before — something like that certainly hasn't been mentioned in ' _Hogwarts, A History_ '. Apart from children of the Founders, of course." Everything was said so quickly, it left Ginny bewildered, and feeling slightly dizzy as she tried to catch up with everything that had been said. Usually it was her that others had to keep up with. Hermione seemed nice enough, but she thought she would end up getting on better with Fay, who was their dorm's resident Quidditch fan.

"Um..." she said absently, trying to figure out why exactly she was so interested. "I guess I am pretty lucky. I thought I wasn't going to be taking any classes at all until yesterday."

"So you _are_ too young, then," the girl continued "How old are you?"

"Ten. Why are you so curious?" Ginny asked.

The girl blushed. "Sorry, I'm just sort of new to all this — I'm trying to find out as much about magic and everything as I can. Hogwarts is just such an amazing place, and..."

"Oh, right, sorry. You're Muggleborn, then?"

"Yes. I'm Hermione Granger. You're Ginevra Weasley, aren't you?"

Ginny winced. No one but her parents and her Aunt Muriel ever called her Ginevra — her parents rarely, and Aunt Muriel just because she was weird like that. "Please don't call me that," she said. "Ginny's fine."

"Oh, sorry. Um, how come you're here if you aren't eleven yet?"

"Oh, um, I sort of Apparated onto the train by accident," she said, blushing as she remembered why that bit of accidental magic had happened.

"It was pretty amazing," Harry added. Ginny felt her cheeks get hotter still. _'Oh, I'll never be rid of that!'_

Hermione's eyes brightened. "Apparated? Is that like teleporting then?"

Ginny glanced back at Harry, who winked. She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back. "Um, a little, I guess."

"What does it feel like? What does it look like? Oh, hang on, you wouldn't really know much about that, would you? Or would you? How long does it take? Was it awfully disconcerting to just appear somewhere else?" Hermione babbled.

"Um... what?" she asked, blinking.

"You know, this isn't really the best place — I've even left my notebook in my trunk," she groaned. "I've gone and done this on the first day, too! I can't believe myself. You'll have to tell me everything this evening though!"

"Err, sure..." she replied dazedly.

"So, we've got Charms first. Is that the same for you, Ginny?" Harry asked, looking as lost as she felt.

"Um, yes," she said, reading her schedule. "I've got Charms, my first magical theory lesson — oh, it's with Dumbledore! — then Herbology, and Transfiguration."

"Hold on a minute, though. You've got nearly as many classes as us!" Ron exclaimed. "I thought you weren't going to have any."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione began, "don't you think that Hogwarts teachers would be good enough at magic to make this thing change when they need it to?" Hermione pointed at the timetable, looking disdainfully at him. His ears turned red.

"Yeah, well, ruddy know-it-all," he mumbled under his breath.

Seeing Hermione begin to flush, Ginny tried to distract them. "Come on or we'll be late for class." She followed Harry out of the Great Hall through the giant double doors.

"Yeah, it's Charms, so that's the second floor, right? Or is it the fourth?" Harry asked, blushing slightly in embarrassment as he walked toward the Grand Staircase.

"Um, I think it's the second," Ginny replied.

"Okay..."

"Oi, you two! Why didn't you wait up?" Ron was jogging up to meet them, with Hermione glaring from behind.

"We thought the two of you were quite busy enough," Ginny snapped back, giving Hermione an apologetic look. She grimaced back.

"Okay... whoa!" Harry cried out as the staircase swung around and into position. They hurried up before it moved again. "Second floor. Big place though. Where are we meant to be?"

"Follow me," Hermione said airily.

"She didn't memorise the layout of the school too, did she?" Ron muttered.

"Well, if she did, you should be grateful, Ron!" Ginny stamped on his toe. "That's for being a git the whole of this morning."

"I'd be a bit more careful, Ron," Harry chuckled. Ron just gave them both death glares, wisely holding his tongue.

* * *

"Enter, Miss Weasley."

Ginny drew in a deep breath before opening the door. It was slightly unnerving that he'd known she was there before she'd so much as touched the door. Bill had told her about wards that could identify people from anything, such as blood and magical signature, but nothing without some kind of direct physical or magical contact. But then, Albus Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the world, and if anyone could do that...

She'd been nervous since she'd seen on her schedule who she was going to have her first 'theory lesson' with, although it did make sense. She asked Professor Flitwick where the Headmaster's office was, but he pointed out that a map had appeared on the back of her timetable to highlight the location. It appeared that a lot of effort was being made on her behalf. Then, she'd arrived and realised she'd already forgotten the password for the gargoyle who guarded the entrance. This had been provided by her heavily enchanted timetable, too.

And now she was back to the place McGonagall had brought her the day before. The journey took a lot longer, but the castle had lost none of its grandeur, so she didn't really mind all that much. "Good morning, Professor," she said in greeting.

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Ah, it has been far too long since I, myself, have taught a class. It is my fortunate responsibility to introduce you to some of the wonders and mysteries that give you such incredible powers. I wonder, do you understand what causes what we call _accidental magic_?"

"Um, I think so, sir. It happens whenever we feel very strong emotions, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, that is the simple version. However, your training this year will require that you understand how to reliably manipulate your access to the magical energies of our universe, so that your magic is no longer accidental. You see, we only produce such results as you have seen from yourself when we feel very strong emotions, or rather, most of us do. You seem to either be particularly passionate, or particularly attuned to your abilities. I have encountered perhaps a handful of others in my lifetime who are so attuned. All went on to be brilliant witches, and wizards..." His eyes suddenly became rather distant and sad.

Ginny didn't dare say a word, but she didn't need to, for mere seconds later, Dumbledore broke out of his reverie.

"These kinds of accidental magic are all quite simple, with simple results, such as vanishing a pane of glass, or blasting a mirror," he said. His eyes twinkled merrily again, and Ginny blushed. That was one of the first bits of accidental magic she remembered, when Fred and George had decided to _experiment_ with her hair as she slept, and see her reaction. "In any case, these are all simple because they are driven by emotions alone, and simple ones at that, rather than any real thought. Have you ever wondered about why we need to incant our spells?"

"Well, I don't think you do, sir," Ginny answered. He laughed a little at that.

"Ah, well, most of it is understanding. Most wizards can do it if they really try, if they put in the work, but, alas, most do not see the benefit. We actually teach it in N.E.W.T. level classes. I often wonder if non-verbal casting is the reason for the examination's rather, ahem, peculiar designation."

She smiled. The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests had been named in a flight of fancy, surely, but nobody had seen fit to change it. "I'm not really sure, sir — I just assumed it was the spells being, I don't know, tied to the words and the wand movements."

"Hmm, it would appear that you make accurate assumptions. There is a complex bond between wand movements and the results of the casting, whereas the theory behind incantations is a little less confusing. There is a whole department at the Ministry dedicated to the practice of spell development, and many others do it in private. Having your own secret spell is a rather attractive prospect to many."

Ginny considered the Bat Bogey Hex. ' _Is it a secret spell for me and Bill?'_ "So, is it like talking to magic, professor?"

"Yes... and no. Those words themselves are not truly aimed at the force of magic. They are aimed at our own minds. Commands issued directly at magic are, by definition, both without wand or word. This usually provides more powerful results, but these are far harder to control. No, we are aiming the words at our own minds, and our own souls. Language also is completely irrelevant, but we British wizards and witches all seem to find the Latin variants rather romantic. Our souls are our main tie to magic — our power sources, if you prefer. It appears that the words do have some effect on this, and the various rhythms and stresses somehow influence our cores. However, the harmonious relationship of mind and soul means that concentrating hard enough on the words and their enunciations is usually enough to produce the same results."

"So we could really say one spell while we're casting another?" Ginny asked, instantly realising the potential this had against her twin brothers.

"Quite. Neither do we truly require wands, but the normal practice of wand-less magic is taxing in the extreme and the results tend to be very difficult to control. A wand helps us to focus the release of magical energy. It is magnified via the magical properties of the wand's core, before being released in a more controlled manner. If we attempt wand-less magic without the correct mindset, there is simply no telling where the spell will come from, where it will go, or how it will be focused. It is possible to accidentally set off a spell from someone else's wand, if you don't concentrate enough, but the complications and possibilities are... Well, let's just say that even I try not to dabble in such matters. This, however, is a field for which you may have a natural affinity."

Ginny sat silently in awe of what she'd been told. It appeared magic was a lot greater than she'd imagined. She wondered why people didn't try to learn about this — it was so wonderful and brilliant, she couldn't imagine.

Dumbledore stood up and walked around behind her. "Please stand, Miss Weasley."

Ginny got up warily. She found that she really liked the headmaster. The problem was that every time she looked into his eyes, she got a powerful urge to run in the opposite direction.

"Come now, my dear girl," he chuckled lightly. "You cannot possibly be in trouble already. Even your twin brothers have not had the chance to... disrupt the proper function and operation of this fine institution."

 _'Disrupt the...? Is he taking the piss?'_

"Miss Weasley, have your parents taught you any stances for spell casting?" he asked.

"Enchantment Basic, Enchantment Stable, Assault Basic and Standing Defense, sir," Ginny reeled off.

If Dumbledore was surprised that she knew combat stances, he didn't show it. Dad had shown her last year after having to fight off and subdue a particularly sadistic muggle baiter at work.

"Assume Enchantment Basic, Miss Weasley," he said.

The stance really was quite basic. You stood straight with feet shoulder width apart, and arms held out horizontally with elbows pointing outwards. She held her imaginary wand loosely in her right hand while her left hand hung open to help channel the energy.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "But pull your wand hand back slightly. You are cupping the tip of the wand here."

"But sir," Ginny complained, "I don't have a wand."

The old professor smiled. "Quite," he amended. "However, you should still move your hand back, only to a lesser degree." After she had done so, he continued. "Miss Weasley, I want you to concentrate very hard on the device before you."

It was an intricate thing of silver, as were most of the instruments that littered the room on delicate little tables. There were a couple of cogs connected by a chain and spinning slowly clockwise then anticlockwise then clockwise again. Through the centre of the chain were a pair of spear-like protrusions, between which the occasional spark flashed a pale blue.

"Now, I want you to grasp upon the first emotion you feel. Draw upon every thought and memory that reinforces it," said Professor Dumbledore.

Ginny seized upon her happiness at being at Hogwarts. The wonder of the huge, ancient castle, the promise of all that she would learn here and all that she would do here. She thought of the people she had met, the stories she'd been told and the sights she had seen.

"Are you ready, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked. Ginny nodded. "Good, now keep those thoughts at the forefront of your mind."

A feeling of euphoria was burgeoning within her. Perhaps it was some sort of cheering charm. In a matter of seconds she felt completely delirious; her whole body was tingling and she thought the room was getting more colourful.

"Focus on the instrument and repeat after me," a voice called to her. _'Sure, why not?'_ "Nucleum canalare capacitatem navitas praefluunta totalis."

Ginny giggled as the words washed over her. "I'm sorry, sir, can you say that again please? There's so many funny words..."

"Nucleum canalare capacitatem navitas praefluunta totalis." This time the words echoed in her mind, casting their shadow onto her vision. She frowned, but suddenly the words were sparkling and it was all okay.

"Nucleum canalare capacitatem navitas praefluunta totalis," she chanted. Her delirium vanished in less than a heartbeat. At the sudden loss of sensation, she found herself quite light-headed. Ginny fell to her knees only to be caught in mid air. Professor Dumbledore's levitation charm carried her slowly over to her seat and settled her in it. She groaned. "Professor? What just happened?"

"I must apologize for the discomfort, Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said distractedly. "Most witches and wizards aren't affected quite as much as you seem to have been. More to the point, the majority of witches and wizards barely get a response from this instrument. I am inclined to say that this will still be turning over the next time I see you."

Ginny rubbed her eyes and looked over at him. He seemed rather solemn as he observed the instrument. The thing itself seemed fit to burst. The little cogs were spinning so fast they just blurred, and the two prongs were barely visible behind an intense white light.

"Miss Weasley, if you recall the instrument's prior, idle state, that was the background magical energy of the castle exciting it. This, my dear girl, is the power you command." Ginny gasped. "Consider that the castle's background energy comes from some of the most powerful wards known to sorcerers, and you will understand why you will never need a wand."

Ginny stared at her hands. "Lumos," she whispered. Nothing happened. Irritated, she flung out her arms and instantly released a burst of light so bright she cried out. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"As you can clearly see, Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore continued as though nothing had happened, "your power does not require the amplifying properties of a wand. You need only achieve the correct mindset to focus the energy correctly. Precisely as I suspected."

Ginny glanced up at this, but found nothing beyond a kindly smile. As he returned to his own chair, Ginny looked more closely at the instrument she'd set off. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot out from one of the prongs and channeled into a spot in mid-air. There was a sound like a great wind blowing through the room, and the air... opened. It fractured, showing fault lines of white light, and then almost all of the light pulsing through the instrument faded. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the strange crack in the air was gone. With it went much of the power in the instrument, which now sparked with only a ghost of its former energy.

Ginny looked to the headmaster for some sign, but the man remained impassive. "How... peculiar," he murmured finally. After a couple of minutes, he raised his wand and levitated a quill off his desk. "Magic," he said. The quill fell slowly back down to the table. "Gravity."

Ginny frowned. Whatever had just happened with the instrument was significant and in some way important, she just knew it. Even still, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt him and ask about it.

"Essentially, magic is a force just the same way gravity is," Dumbledore continued. "The Department of Mysteries, I'm afraid, is not likely to find the reason we are able to siphon energy from it, and control it, until they look to Muggle sciences and technologies — they are still so short-sighted. But regardless, it is a force far greater than gravity. It is, in fact, something Muggle physicists have been looking for for a great many years, although I doubt they expect to find it in their fairy tales." His eyes twinkled with mirth. "It is the one, unified force — the theory of everything. It is the combination of gravity, electromagnetism, the nuclear forces and one other. That other is, as far as we can guess, a force of life. It is a mystery to wizards and Muggles alike, but it sustains our souls. It is what Dementors," his eyes darkened, "feed from, in some way or another."

Ginny knew she was in some trouble here. She'd never been to Muggle school, and while Luna had, she hadn't really said that much about it since her mother died and she stopped going. She hadn't said much that made any sense since then anyway. ' _I'll have to ask her about it in the summer. Or, actually, I could ask Hermione about it today!'_

The lesson continued with Dumbledore covering some of the major discoveries in the history of magic. He mentioned that he had learned much of what he knew from Merlin (although he didn't explain how he'd managed that), who had been proficient at channelling 'raw' magic. That was what he called wand-less, word-less magic. He tasked her with practising using it in her free time so that she could develop the skills she needed to control it. She couldn't see that being a problem, considering that she didn't have a wand of her own. But he warned her to only practise in or close to the castle, where the wards would give the best protection in case of an accident.

* * *

"So, Ginny, you've kept us waiting far too long — tell us what happened in the lesson!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry really wished that Hermione would just calm down a bit. Or a lot. She'd managed to keep quiet after Ginny threatened not to tell her anything, but she was visibly distressed as they went to Transfiguration. Her insane dedication to her note taking and attention to the teacher actually slipped. Once. Then, Hermione ground her teeth and turned back to McGonagall.

He listened closely as Ginny went through what must have been literally everything Dumbledore had said. He was sure that it would've only taken about five minutes for Hermione to explain. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to have her own ideas. She went off on her own, trying to explain the formation of the universe to a ten year old witch who didn't really know how electricity worked. Harry was actually interested, but only Ginny seemed capable of keeping up with her. Still, he caught enough to figure out that it wasn't going to make sense to him soon. She went on for so long that Ron was hungry by the end, but on the other hand, Ron ate nearly half as much as Dudley did...

Once Hermione was finished with her explanation, Harry took the opportunity to jump in, asking Ginny if she had practised yet.

She grinned at him. "You would not believe my light spell earlier!"

"Show us then!" Hermione gushed.

"In here," Ginny said. She opened a door at random, which led into an apparently abandoned classroom. Dust lay in a thick layer on the wooden benches, which formed a similar layout to Professor Flitwick's room. There was a central dais, and benches rose to either side so that people at the back could see what was going on.

"A demonstration chamber..." Hermione said. "There's only meant to be one on the ground floor."

"Okay seriously, how the hell would you know that?" Ron challenged.

"Lay off, Ron," Ginny snapped.

"It's in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione explained, keeping her eyes pointedly on Ginny. "The other two were next to each other and turned into a duelling arena."

"You mean like a boxing ring?" Harry asked. Uncle Vernon had been very fond of boxing...

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. There were only vague descriptions of actual duelling, and I've been trying to keep up with my normal studies."

"Trust me, Hermione, you're well ahead there," Harry said, thinking back to the earlier science babble. She only shrugged in reply.

"Well, I know duel arenas are long," Ron said. "They make the duellers walk away from each other for a bit before the fight starts."

"Anyway, we're here for a reason," Harry prompted. "Ginny?"

She climbed atop the dais, and they all took places in the front row to the far side. Like all the rooms in the castle, the demonstration chamber was huge, with a ceiling so high that three Hagrids could stand on top of each other and not touch the ceiling.

"Okay," said Ginny. "Cover your eyes!"

Harry raised both hands to his face. Through his fingers he could see Ginny changing her posture, raising her arms. He fancied there was a glimmer at her right hand. Her face was starting to go red. Feeling an urge to stop her and calm her down, Harry almost removed his hands and got up, but she snarled at thin air and there was a humungous flash. His hands could do nothing to protect him. The flesh glowed pink-red with the intensity of the light. After maybe two seconds, though, the light was gone, leaving a sizable blindspot in his vision. To his right, Ron was groaning, while on his left Hermione was reaching for his hand.

"That was pretty amazing, Ginny," Harry praised.

"Yeah, I've never heard of the _lumos_ spell being so powerful," Hermione added.

"I can't see!" Ron moaned.

"That part does suck," Harry agreed.

Ginny laughed. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

* * *

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."

Professor Snape's entrance almost seemed rehearsed; the door slammed with perfect timing to punctuate the end of the sentence. His black robes billowed out behind him and together with his glittering black eyes made him look a lot like an overgrown bat.

"As such, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Harry found it almost comical how nobody breathed a word once Professor Snape had started talking – he was like Professor McGonagall in this way if in no other.

Hermione was holding herself perfectly straight, as if she was trying to prove from the start that she was better than the previous 'dunderheads'. Ginny caught Harry's eye then rolled hers, smirking. Professor Snape began to take the register. When he paused at Malfoy to glance up at the slimeball, Harry knew that this guy would be trouble. It wasn't until Snape reached him that things really went south, though.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he said slowly. "Our new... celebrity."

He continued to take the register. When he was done, he let them sit in silence for a while as his eyes roved over their faces. Snape's eyes were as black as Hagrid's, but held none of the warmth Harry found with the giant man. These eyes, and the faint sneer below them, promised a small _accident_ sometime in the near future. Snape took a deep breath through his hooked nose and continued in the soft voice that nobody dared to breathe over.

"Tell me then Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry said politely. He'd given all his texts a cursory look-through, but those ingredients didn't ring a bell. Hermione had obviously read as much as she'd claimed, though, for her hand was raised. Ginny seemed to know too, and got a strange look from the professor before he returned to staring coldly at Harry. They were the only ones amongst the Gryffindors, so Harry didn't feel too bad. Still, half of Slytherin seemed willing to offer up answers before realising that this was just for Harry.

"Fame clearly isn't everything, is it, Potter?" Snape said slowly. "Where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Harry knew this one! He'd mentioned it to Ron on the train, worried about whether one would be needed. "In the stomach of a goat, sir. It protects from most poisons."

"I am gratified," Snape sneered, "that the great Harry Potter has deemed it worth his time to at least open his book before coming to my Potions class."

There were a few sniggers, but it seemed as if a dark cloud had descended upon the dungeon classroom.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione seemed to be about to stand, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

Harry looked to Ginny for help, but rather than tell him the answer she drew her finger across her throat. Snape didn't want to check the class's knowledge or even his. He would ask progressively harder questions until Harry felt he wasn't good enough.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I was really hoping that you would teach me these things, being the teacher." A few people laughed; Harry caught sight of Seamus's eye and Seamus winked.

Snape, however, was not pleased. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter."

This man was getting on Harry's nerves already. Snape set them all to preparing a potion to cure boils - rememdium furunculus. He put them all in pairs; curiously, when he came upon Harry and Ginny he partnered her with Ron, sending him to work with Parvati on the other side of the room. He supposed he didn't mind too much. Parvati was nice enough, and this class wasn't conducive to conversation.

Snape prowled the classroom, offering everyone varying degrees of harsh criticism except for Malfoy. It didn't look like Harry was going to pass this class on Snape's watch. The professor was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy was stewing his horned slugs when acid green smoke started hissing out of Neville and Seamus's cauldron.

"Take cover!" Ginny cried. Potion sprayed in every direction, showering the immediate area. Unfortunately, Neville was incredibly slow to react and got splashed right in the face. By now, the cauldron was only a twisted blob, and hot potion was spreading across the floor. People jumped onto stools and tables to avoid it, but it was too late for Neville. Angry boils were springing up all over his face and hands, while his robes seemed to be smoking under the dark green, runny liquid that was sliding off them. He was moaning in pain. Harry grimaced as more boils appeared on Neville's forehead.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled. He swept his wand across the floor, cleaning away the spilled potion as if it had never been there. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills _before_ taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville could only whimper in response.

Hermione gasped and started scribbling something.

"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape told Seamus coldly as the Irish boy appeared from under the desk. Then Snape turned on Harry and Parvati, who had been working at the next table. "You, Potter, why didn't you warn him? Did you think it would make you look good if he ruined his potion? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry wanted to argue, but he felt Parvati's hand on his. "It's not worth it," she whispered. Harry was still mystified by her touch. Her hand felt soft and warm. There must have been something in his expression, because she gave him a reassuring sort of smile and let go.

Harry stared at his hand, remembering Uncle Vernon crushing it under his shoe a few months ago.

 _Freak!_

 _'No!'_

Harry stared at the professor, who sneered back. This man _hated_ him.

The rest of the lesson was no easier to bear. Seamus came back looking a little bit ill. Apparently the boils hadn't stopped appearing, and if a prefect hadn't helped they might not have gotten to the infirmary, which was on the seventh floor. Harry wondered if that was some sick punishment of Snape's, to leave them there covered in boils until someone chanced upon them. He ground his teeth together in his impotent, indignant rage.

Harry and Parvati's potion turned out alright, in the end. At least, Harry thought it was close enough to the blue colour they were trying to achieve, though it might have been a little too purple. They even had pink smoke coming out of the cauldron, but the look Snape gave it suggested it needed decontamination. As they left the class, Harry felt certain that the toll for his good fortunes would be exacted entirely through that dungeon classroom.

Still, he had gotten his first piece of wizard mail that morning. Hagrid had asked him round for a cup of tea.

* * *

"Back, Fang. Back!"

The frantic scrabbling and loud, reverberating barking stopped. The door opened to reveal Hagrid's huge, hairy face.

"Jus' a momen'. Back, Fang!"

He let them all in, struggling to keep hold of the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room in Hagrid's hut. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle sat boiling on an open fire and there was a massive bed in the corner with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at 'ome," said Hagrid. The moment he let go of Fang, the dog bounded right at Ron, bowling him over and licking his ears. As with Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cried.

"That's Ron," said Harry, struggling not to laugh.

"And you must be Ginny," said Hagrid. He was pouring boiling water into a huge teapot, and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "I don' know if the school can take another two Weasleys. Spent 'alf me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Harry took a rock cake eagerly, remembering the chocolate cake Hagrid had baked for his birthday. Unfortunately, that seemed to be a one-off occurrence, for the rock cakes almost broke their teeth when they bit into them. Still, they pretended to enjoy them as they discussed their first week with Hagrid.

"Yer sayin' yeh Apparated onter the train?" Hagrid asked with raised eyebrows.

Ginny blushed brightly. "Yeah," she said.

Hagrid chuckled heartily. "I bet you gave them a right shock. Yer not supposed to be able ter do tha'."

"My magic's going a bit mad lately," Ginny admitted.

"Eh?" said Hagrid. "No, I didn' mean the Apparatin'. That's rare ter be sure, bu' yeh shouldn' be able ter Apparate onter the train anyway."

"Huh?" Ginny exclaimed.

"The wards aren' as strong as on the castle, bu' they put some on the train as well, seein' as how people used ter Apparate their kids on ter try an' trick the school into acceptin' 'em," Hagrid laughed.

Ginny sank backwards into the sofa, blushing down to her neck. "I ... um..."

"Don' be embarrassed, Ginny!" Hagrid boomed, grinning. "That's some migh'y impressive magic, that."

Ginny quickly changed the subject to life in the castle.

They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch 'that old git'. Argus Filch was the bane of all students at Hogwarts. Thankfully, they'd had precious few run-ins with the cantankerous old caretaker.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce 'er to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like everyone else, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should 'e?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron and Ginny. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While the others told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date. The 31st of July was Harry's birthday. It was also the day Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley, the Wizarding high street in London, to get all of his school supplies; the day they had gone to Gringotts, the goblin bank where all of Britain's wizards kept their gold and valuables.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it. Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying to take out a solitary, grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Ron and Ginny walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

* * *

After a week and a half, Ginny hadn't progressed any further with her ability, but she thought she'd learned more in her private lessons with Dumbledore and Flitwick than with Professor McGonagall. Professor Flitwick seemed very good at getting her to _do_ something, but apart from the light spell, she'd had little luck controlling what that something was going to be. Regardless, she didn't have any standard classes at all anymore. She'd only had the first lessons of each of those as a sort of introduction. Although, she could have done without the History of Magic one. Binns had put her in a state of lethargy that she couldn't shake for hours afterwards.

She woke up on a Thursday morning to odd feelings of delight and depression. Shaking her head and attributing it to some dream that she couldn't remember (which would also be odd, since she always remembered her dreams), she got slowly out of bed.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed that everyone was crowded around the notice board. Harry turned to her. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked.

"What?" Ginny asked, perplexed.

"Your timetable — it updates on its own, right?" Harry pressed. "Why didn't you tell us about the flying lessons?"

"Flying lessons? Hang on."

She pulled it out of the inside pocket of her robes, and lo and behold, there it was.

 _Thursday_  
 _10:50 Private w. Professor Dumbledore_  
 _14:05 Flying w. Madam Hooch_  
 _15:35 Private w. Professor Flitwick_

"I just didn't notice." If she had, she would've been bouncing off the walls.

"Didn't notice?" Harry looked incredulous. "It's flying! How could you possibly miss it? Everyone's been going on about it for days, including you."

"I don't know, Harry! Who do we have it with?"

At once, his face darkened. "The _Slytherins_."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" she groaned. On the whole, the Slytherins were a _challenging_ group to share a class with. You definitely did not want to do anything embarrassing in front of that lot.

"I know! I've been looking forward to this for weeks, and now I'm just going to go make a fool of myself in front of bloody Malfoy."

"Hey, you don't know you'll make a fool of yourself," Ginny said soothingly, placing her hand on his arm. They both blushed, and the hand was quickly pulled back.

"Um, thanks, Ginny. I think I'll go get some breakfast." He turned and walked hurriedly off.

Behind her, she heard giggles. "What are you two laughing at?" she glared at Lavender and Parvati, who just giggled even more. She growled, and turned to Hermione in a huff. "Insufferable, they are." Hermione was obviously trying to give her a comforting look, but the smirk killed it. "Oh, shove off, all of you."

That day, she managed to get to the Great Hall without anybody's help and without getting lost for the first time. The trick was getting to the Grand Staircase, since from there it was almost obvious which way to go. Gryffindor's Common Room was fairly out of the way, as were all the others apparently, but the flip side of it being hard to find your way to it was that it was hard to find your way away from it.

Her feeling of pride didn't last though. As she made her way along the Gryffindor table, she noticed three figures standing around Neville. It was Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Ginny snarled angrily, and pointed her finger at him. "Give that thing back to him, now," She stated, her voice firm.

"Ooh, what are you going to do, Weasley?" Draco sneered. "Stick that finger up my nose?" Crabbe and Goyle, as was their habit, guffawed stupidly behind him.

"You really don't know why I'm still here, do you? I doubt you even know how I got here in the first place. With your oh-so-greatly-esteemed Death Eater father where he is, that really is rather shameful, you know."

Malfoy glowered. "Filthy blood traitor. I expect Dumbledore was doing your family a favour. I expect they'll be able to double the furniture in that shack of yours with the money they'll save, you being here."

"Stupid arrogant arse!" she yelled. Her cheeks reddened as most conversation in their vicinity died.

"Don't worry boys, she'll come up with some killer curses soon," Malfoy drawled.

"She doesn't need to," Fred said darkly.

"Now push off you little prick," George finished.

"How dare you?" Malfoy scowled.

"I was under the impression we had quite the reputation for daring, bro," George grinned.

"True," Fred chuckled, "but there's not much daring in putting down some snotty nosed retard."

Malfoy sneered. "I never thought I'd see the day a Weasley could call someone snotty nosed. Can you even perform a cleaning charm?"

"Thought you'd never ask," George grinned.

" _Tergeo_ ," Fred cast surreptitiously, keeping his wand hidden in his robes.

From the way Malfoy reddened, Fred had chosen his target very carefully. There was a chorus of cheers and laughs from those nearby. Malfoy only lingered long enough to mutter a threat to the indifferent twins before hobbling off. Fred immediately began casting spells at random under the table.

"Thanks, guys," Neville smiled, picking up the glass ball that Ginny rolled across the table back to him.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked, vaulting onto the bench next to where Ginny still stood. She took it as her cue to sit down herself.

"Just making our old man proud," George grinned enigmatically.

"Malfoy overstepped," Ginny explained. "Tried to steal Neville's remembrall."

"Well that hasn't gone too well for him," Harry laughed.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_. Damn right it didn't," Fred said. "If that idiot does anything out of line, let us know."

"Yeah, teachers and prefects can take points..." George started.

"... but we can hit him where it hurts," Fred winked. " _Lumos._ "

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Trade secret," Fred winked.

"We'll let you in on it though," said George.

"Call it a goodwill investment," Fred added.

"He's _cleaning_ his wand," George whispered, leaning in close.

"So if a professor checks it for the last spells I cast ..." said Fred.

"... they won't find what they're looking for," George finished.

"Huh," Ginny murmured. "That's pretty nifty. I thought _Priori Incantato_ could go back for as long as you want, though."

"It's limited by the power and will of the person who casts it, but yes," said Hermione.

"That's the thing, isn't it?" said George.

"How can anyone ever accuse you ..."

"... based on something you might have done ..."

"... years and years ago?" Fred finished.

"See you guys around," George grinned, and they were off.

Ginny turned to start eating. "What is a remembrall, anyway?"

"Do you see all the smoke inside it?" Neville asked. "It turns red if I've forgotten something."

Predictably enough, the swirling smoke reddened to a deep crimson.

"You need to smack the crap out of Malfoy?" Harry said jokingly.

"That too," Ginny agreed. "Wand? Books?"

"I've got my wand," Neville answered. "Which classes do we have again?"

"Defence, Potions, History, Flying," Hermione reeled off as she sat.

"My defence textbook!" Neville exclaimed. The mist went grey, although it still looked ruddy.

"Share mine," Harry offered.

"Cheers, Harry," said Neville.

"You know, Malfoy only picked on you because he thought you wouldn't do anything about it," Ginny told Neville. "Of course we'll stand up for you, but if you don't do something yourself, he's still going to look at you as an easy target."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Neville said morosely. "I just... He would destroy me! I'm no good with magic."

"Don't be silly," Ginny replied. "If there's one thing I've picked up from Professor Dumbledore, it's that confidence and willpower are everything. Just believe in yourself."

"I'll try," Neville replied.

* * *

"UP!" Harry commanded, and to his surprise, the broom seemed quite obedient to his will. It jumped into his outstretched hand the same instant Ginny's did. The brooms soon flopped back down, though, as the two of them were too distracted by the antics of the third in their group, who seemed to have a particularly violent broom assigned to him. Ron was beet red when he'd gotten it under control, hissing reprimands at his best friend and sister, but they were lost to sensibility.

Madam Hooch directed them all in how to handle their brooms, criticising Malfoy extensively on his grip technique, much to the amusement of the Gryffindors he spent his time harassing. Despite her best efforts though, Hermione and Neville still looked at theirs as if the brooms might try to eat them. The brooms themselves were rolling in their hands, jerking around every now and again, seemingly trying to escape.

"You're not gonna fly if you're pissing yourself on the ground, Neville," Seamus said so that Malfoy wouldn't hear.

"I can't do it," Neville groaned.

"Sure you can," said Harry.

"He can't," Ron muttered.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two..."

There was a thud and a whoosh on Harry's right. Turning, he saw Neville flying skyward. He'd panicked, and kicked off early.

"Mother of..." Ginny cursed. She was reaching out for the ascending boy with both arms, her hands glowing faintly red with magical energy, but she only slowed him. The broom was going mad, spiralling up backwards, flipping and bucking. Madam Hooch yelled after him, wand out, but to no avail. Poor Neville lasted only ten seconds before falling out of the sky with a sickening crack.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Most of Slytherin house joined him.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

"We're all full of surprises today," Dean mocked.

"Yeah, I heard Malfoy weren't too different this mornin'," Seamus laughed. Malfoy reddened, and battle lines were drawn. Harry noted that while all of Gryffindor had lined up on their end, a few Slytherins chose not to back up Malfoy. The two factions stared each other down for a moment, before Malfoy's face suddenly brightened.

"You know, maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse!" he sneered, picking up the glittering ball Neville had been sent just that morning, and clearly had escaped his clothing as he fell from his broom.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry said quietly.

"Or what? Are you going to get your girlfriend to hex me again?" he asked, lifting off the ground. So he did remember that electrocution hex. Yet he hadn't told any teachers. That or they hadn't believed him. Was it possible that the spell didn't leave any traces?

Harry and Ginny both blushed a little. "No, I'm going to knock you off that broom, and make sure that you stay in the Hospital Wing," Harry replied heatedly.

"He didn't deny it," Carina giggled, nudging Pansy.

"I'd like to see you try, scarhead!" Malfoy called as he flew backwards, beckoning with the remembrall. He hadn't been kidding, he was an old hand at flying.

"So classic," Pansy smirked, "the idiot and the gold digger."

"You bitch!" Ginny cried, raising her broom like a javelin. Instantaneously, it exploded into flames. Pansy and Carina screamed, running behind Millicent Bulstrode, who was desperately trying to get out of the way.

Hermione somehow grabbed a hold of Harry's broom and Ginny's arm. "Don't do this! It's what they want. They're trying to get you into trouble."

"Screw that, you guys," Ron said. "Pulverize them!"

"Harry, you don't even know how to fly! You didn't read any of the books I borrowed..."

"They worked so well for you and Neville after all," Ron replied. "Take him out!"

Harry got on the broom. It felt alive somehow.

 _SMACK!_

He looked to see that Fay and Parvati had gone to exact vengeance on Ginny's behalf.

Grinning, he took up the mantle. At the look in his eyes, Hermione quickly let go of the broom, and he shot out at Malfoy like a bullet. The broom was a part of him. An old, dilapidated part, but it responded to Harry in a way he hadn't expected.

"Want to show everyone what you can do without Crabbe and Goyle around, Malfoy?" Harry said.

"I can do whatever I like. What are you trying to prove, Potter?" he bit back, though his eyes were darting around a little nervously. He evidently hadn't expected Harry to be able to fly. If he was honest about it, neither had Harry.

"Give me the bloody remembrall, Malfoy!" he yelled. He didn't notice the extra spectator the two of them had gained, and such was the drama of the situation, neither did anyone else.

"Oh, I don't think so," he sneered. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for the lump to find it — how about the roof?" He chucked it as hard as he could at the castle. It was not going to make the roof, but Harry doubted it would be much more than glittering fragments if he didn't do something. He went into a violent dive, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd, which was carried away by the wind whistling deafeningly past Harry's ears. Time seemed to slow down as he neared the ground. He stretched out his arm, and instinctively knew where and when to grasp. He pulled up as hard as he could, and his toes skimmed the grass, his fingers clinging tightly to the glass sphere.

"MR. POTTER!" He heard the voice like a grenade through the cheers, and instantly wished he'd just kept going into the ground. It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was forming a line thinner than one made by a pencil. "Come with me."

He kept his head down, avoiding Hermione's I-told-you-so look, and the snickering from the Slytherins. He turned his head slightly, met Ginny's eyes for a moment, and his heart sank further. He'd never see them again. He was going to be expelled.

* * *

"Seeker?!" Ron exclaimed in a hiss, his voice tinged with awe. "But first years never make the house teams! You must be the youngest seeker in..."

"A century," Harry confirmed. "According to Wood, at least." Oliver Wood was the captain of the House Quidditch team. A heavily built fifth year, he had reacted to McGonagall's proposition of having Harry as seeker the same way a man might react to being given power over time and space. McGonagall had even suggested that a sports broom would be sorted out for him.

"I'm so happy for you, Harry — this is amazing!" Ginny added, grinning. He grinned back, and her cheeks coloured a little.

Ron had, on this occasion, abandoned his usual gluttony to focus on this interesting new development. "You don't reckon they'll let you have your own broom, do you? I mean, first years aren't allowed..."

"Well," Harry said, "she said she was going to ask Dumbledore about bending the rules or something." He was getting a little alarmed by the lack of attention Ron was showing his dinner.

"No way! That's so cool!" Ron replied.

"Careful not to wet yourself, Ron," Ginny smirked. Ron scowled back at her, then glared at Harry, who was sniggering behind his hand. "So, when's your first practice, Harry?"

"A week from now. Um, could you, um, tell me how to play?" he whispered. Ron's mouth dropped open, and Ginny was evidently about to start on an explanation when they were interrupted.

"Do mine ears deceive me?" It was the twins, though they had the decency to keep their voices down.

"And there we were ..." George began.

"... ready to sleep soundly ..." Fred continued.

"... sure that the cup was ours ..." George added, gazing into the distance with a convincing dreamy look in his eyes.

"... and you _had_ to go ..."

"... and say a thing like that." They stood, shaking their heads in disbelief and despair.

"Oh, get lost, you two," Ginny admonished. "Where exactly was he supposed to learn about Quidditch? The Muggle newspapers? Honestly!"

"Now, now, sis, don't get your knickers in a twist!"

"Unless..."

She leapt to her feet. "That's enough!" she yelled, her face very red. The twins left, laughing as she sat down slowly.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"What was what about?" she asked, turning even redder. He dropped the subject, and set about finishing his dinner.

"So, um, Ron, how did they find out? I mean, Wood wanted it to be a secret."

"Oh, they're on the team as well. Beaters. Bloody hell, what does that git want now?"

"Enjoying a last meal, Potter? When are you catching the train back to those Muggles?" Draco asked as he approached.

"When are you going to tell your charming father how you were outdone by someone who'd never even flown before?" Ginny quickly answered. It seemed she had regained her composure.

"Ah, back to relying on your little girlfriend are you, Potter?"

"It's not like you can do anything either way, Malfoy," Harry stated. "And I seem to remember that you were flying too. Don't you think that if I were being expelled, so would you?"

"Oh, don't work his poor brain so hard Harry," Ginny grinned.

"If you don't leave, Malfoy, I'll go and get Professor McGonagall," Hermione declared stiffly.

"Ooooohhhh," Malfoy jeered. "You'll run to the professor will you, you pathetic muggle spawn?" Hermione's eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped in shock.

"Back off, Malfoy, or I'll make the train feel like a warm caress," Ginny snarled.

"You wouldn't dare," Malfoy scoffed. "My father is on the Board of Governors. It's not just you that would be expelled."

"Now who's hiding?" said Harry.

"Well how about a Wizard's duel — settle the whole thing?"

Harry faltered. He didn't know what a wizard's duel was, and while he had an idea, he didn't like it. Lucky for him, Ginny stepped in before anyone noticed. "Sure, I'm his second," she said. "Who's yours?"

Caught momentarily on the wrong foot, Malfoy glanced at her, then looked back at Crabbe and Goyle. "Crabbe."

"Wands only, no contact."

"Tonight in the trophy room."

"Oh, I don't think so," Ginny smirked. "All those trophies would make a lot of noise if they got hit, and there's no telling who might come running if we make a racket. Planning on setting us up, are you, Malfoy?"

He blushed slightly in anger, but to his credit, didn't falter. Much. "N-no, of course not. How about that abandoned classroom by the paved courtyard, where the Gobstones Club plays?"

"Wonderful. Midnight?"

"Of course."

"Done."

He stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. Harry would have asked about Ginny's impossibly quick reactions and the reference to Malfoy's father, but was cut off by Hermione.

"You know, I just can't understand why you would do this to yourself and your house," she fumed. "Think of all the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you get caught!"

"I don't understand how you ate up all the anti-bullying crap they feed you in primary school," Harry fumed right back. "Have you ever even been on the receiving end? Teachers don't care, and when they do, the bullies don't care. You're just giving them ammunition by proving you can't stand up for yourself."

"I have been on the receiving end, thank you very much, and it does work," she protested.

"Oh really?" Harry challenged. Her gaze faltered slightly.

"Yes," she said meekly.

"See?" Harry said.

"Look, no one even asked you," Ron scowled at Hermione. "Just stay out of it."

"Well, as a member of Gryffindor House I felt it was my duty to do all I could to prevent you from..."

"Goodbye," Ron said over her, and walked off, followed by Harry and Ginny, who threw an apologetic glance back in her direction.

"Ron, she was only trying to help her house. Our house, remember?" Ginny called out to him.

Ron stopped at the doors of the Great Hall, the first time he had left before eating his fill. "Well, we're only trying to defend our honour, and the honour of our house. If she wanted to help, she should have volunteered to duel Goyle or something — she probably knows enough spells to have him doing the ballet!"

Ginny sighed. "Ron, you've got to let go of this. Hermione isn't like Fred and George. She takes things seriously, and you're just going to have to get used to it. Exactly what about that makes her a bad person?"

"Doesn't mean I have to like her," he said, walking off towards the common room. Harry and Ginny shrugged at each other, and returned to the Gryffindor Table. They really needed to have a long talk with Hermione.

* * *

"I did say he'd set us up!" Ginny whispered as they charged down a secret passage from the courtyard to the seventh floor — or it had been the last time they'd travelled it. It seemed different now.

"Yeah, bloody grass — telling Filch on us!" Ron agreed.

"And I told you not to go!" Hermione whispered back almost hysterically.

"Quit that, will you?" Harry replied. He was already angry enough that she'd followed them out and they'd been stuck with her, but as their ranks swelled with Neville being added to the group, their chances of getting back undetected were becoming slimmer and slimmer. Neville had forgotten the password and been locked out till twenty to midnight, when they turned up. Of course he was glad that Neville was okay, but Hermione was really out to cause trouble.

They soon reached the trapdoor, and pushed out of the pitch black passage and into a torch-lit corridor. A feeling of foreboding settled over them, a nagging sensation that they should get away from this place as fast as they could.

"Does everyone feel that?" Neville said, his voice quivering, and barely loud enough to be heard.

"Yeah, like we should run for it?" Ron muttered.

"But why, though?" Hermione asked.

"Because it's the third floor corridor!" Ginny burst out. "It's forbidden! We must be feeling the wards the Professors would have put on this place!"

"Okay, keep calm, or we'll bring unwanted attention," Harry commanded. "Now let's look for the door that'll get us towards the Grand Staircase. This could take a while." The first two doors led to empty classrooms, but the third, which was at one end of the corridor, was locked. "Right, Ginny, and Neville — you go to the other end of the corridor and check if there's a door there — we'll try and get this one open."

They split up, and when his sister and Neville were gone, Ron started shoving the door as hard as he could.

"Stop it, Ron! You'll get us caught! Move over!" Hermione hissed. When he did, she pointed her wand at the door and incanted, "Alohomora!" The door opened with a click.

Ron shot an astonished, questioning glance at Hermione before turning to Harry, not noticing their horrified expressions. "Right, well, Hermione — you can go get Ginny and Neville, and we'll ... go ... scout..." he trailed off. Behind the door was a huge dog. But that wasn't the end of it. Three huge heads were being raised from the ground, each one snarling and with a murderous look in its eyes.

"Harry? Hermione? Ron? We've found the..." Neville trailed off, paling.

Orange sparks flew from the monster's claws as they were drawn back, each one black as night and long enough to run one of them right through.

"Shut that door!" Ginny shrieked.

The beast lunged forwards so fast they didn't have time to think. Ginny stretched out her arm, and the door slammed shut in its face, swelling to fit tightly to its frame. The door shifted slightly as the hound slammed into it, splinters breaking off and a massive boom reverberating in their ears. Beyond, they could hear the thing snapping and growling at the meal it had just lost. Everyone but Ginny was frozen in place. Harry was first to recover, although his face was still fearful and set in a look of shock.

"Um, thanks, Ginny," he offered quietly.

"No problem," she replied. Her voice was faint and thin. Shaking herself, Ginny looked around at the others. Hermione was sitting with her back to the wall, staring into the distance, muttering something to herself that she couldn't hear. Ron looked rather like he had the day before they'd left for Hogwarts, when he'd woken up to see a spider the size of his hand standing over his privates. Neville was the worst, though. It looked like he'd actually fainted. She walked over, feeling a little light-headed herself, and started trying to revive him.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Ron said, his voice cracking. Everyone silently agreed. Neville woke with wide eyes, and stared at the door, scrambling away from it as fast as he could. Ginny and Ron dragged him to his feet, and Ron supported him as they crept slowly towards the Grand Staircase.

They were lucky enough to avoid any interceptions by authority, or, gods forbid, poltergeists. And the Fat Lady had returned to her portrait, so they finally found refuge in their common room, no matter how displeased she was.

"What the bloody hell do they think they're doing? Keeping a thing like that in a school!" Ron exclaimed as he stalked through the common room.

"Ron! Language!" Hermione admonished. "And don't you use your eyes? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"I was a bit preoccupied with its heads, Hermione. Maybe you didn't notice. There were three!"

"It was standing on a trapdoor, which means it's here to guard something. Now I'm off to bed before any of you get any more ideas to get us killed, or worse, expelled!" She hurried up the girl's staircase.

"She needs to sort out her priorities..." Ron said with exasperation.

"Not really," Neville said quietly. "I don't ever want to see that thing again."

"Are you okay, Neville?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah, fine — I'll let you know the next time I want to go cerberus hunting, right? Bring a camera, maybe!"

Harry grimaced. "Fine. Goodnight, Neville."

His face softened a little. "I know it wasn't your fault, Harry, but you should have realised Malfoy wasn't going to turn up."

"He's a stinking coward," Ron growled.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "But once I tell Parvati and Lavender, he'll also be a stinking laughing stock."

"Well, that's a nice thought to go to sleep with," Neville smiled. "Goodnight."

"Yeah, night, Neville," Harry called to his retreating back.

"I'm so tired... Coming, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, in a minute," Harry replied. Ron staggered off after Neville.

Ginny suddenly realised they were completely alone together. She couldn't stop the faint blush, so she gave him a shy smile, which he returned.

"Tired?" she asked quietly.

"Um, no, not really," he stuttered. She frowned slightly. He'd looked whacked on their way back from the third floor. She sat down on the nearest couch to the fire, which appeared to be weakening, and he sat next to her. "You?"

"Yes, but I won't get to sleep till breakfast time."

He grinned. "Well then, what do you think they're keeping in Hogwarts?"

"That needs an enormous three-headed dog to guard it? A weapon? It has to be something dangerous."

"Or really valuable. Hagrid told me that Gringotts was the safest place to keep something apart from Hogwarts, so ... aha!"

"What?" Ginny asked, getting caught up in his excitement.

"That break-in at Gringotts!" Harry said hurriedly. "It happened the day I was there with Hagrid. Well, Hagrid emptied a vault. Vault seven hundred and thirteen. He said it was 'special business for Dumbledore' or something like that."

Ginny stared numbly at him. "But that means that the Dark wizards or whatever are going to attack Hogwarts..."

"But Hogwarts _is_ safer than Gringotts, right?" Harry asked, worried.

"Yeah, well, considering Dumbledore's here," Ginny reasoned. "And then there's the fact that you can't Apparate or Portkey in or out of here."

"What's a Portkey?"

"It's any object that you charm to do that teleport thing you mentioned on the train."

"Wow, you remembered that?"

She blushed brightly. "Um, yeah."

"I guess it's lucky you Apparated when you did."

She turned to him with a slightly bemused smile on her face. He blushed and ducked his head.

"I like hanging out with you, you know? I, um, I like you a lot." She gasped. She couldn't help it. He turned redder, and mumbled something incoherent before heading up the boys' staircase. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to even think of stopping him. This certainly had been one hell of a day.


	3. 03 - The Importance of Quidditch

Malfoy looked completely dumbfounded when he saw that the three of them were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry, Ginny and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled everyone in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and he spent a lot of time with Ron and Ginny speculating about what was so incredibly valuable.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was refusing to speak to any of them at this point, which Ginny seemed to be taking pretty hard. Every now and then, Harry would notice Hermione look furtively at Ginny, but then turn away huffily. If he was honest with himself, he shared Ron's happiness at the situation. He was really only friendly with her because Ginny was close to her, since most of the time she was incredibly annoying and overbearing. The fact that she'd followed them all the way around the school last night purely because she was too damn eager to lecture them was a case in point.

With the morning mail that day came a rather large surprise. A long, thin package was being carried down by six screech owls. Harry nearly choked on his sausage when it landed in front of him. The owls were only just taking off again when a letter fell atop the long box-shaped parcel wrapped in thin parchment.

"Well," Ginny whispered, "either some generous person has sent you a staff, or McGonagall's come through for you."

A thrill surged through Harry as he ripped the letter open.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry bit his lip to hide the burgeoning grin as he offered the letter for the others to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

"Isn't everyone going to find out anyway when you come soaring out onto the Quidditch pitch?" Ginny smirked. "Or is she planning to make it invisible?"

"That'd be even worse," Harry laughed at the image in spite of himself, and it came out a little strained. "Just another reason for people to point and stare."

"That stuff really bothers you, doesn't it, Harry?" Ginny asked in a small voice.

"It did get old incredibly quickly," Harry grimaced. Ron was completely oblivious to the conversation, absorbed as he was in simply running his hands up and down the package.

Ginny bit her lip for a moment, then smiled up at him. "Let's go check this thing out," she urged.

They left the hall in a hurry, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy tried to seize the package from Harry, but he wasn't quite quick enough. Harry slung it up behind his back while Ginny grabbed Malfoy by his reaching wrist.

"Nuh-uh-uhhh," she sang. "No touching!"

Malfoy scowled at her, jerking his hand free. She folded her arms and smirked up at him. "That's a broomstick," he said accusingly, with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before the situation could escalate, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. The professor was a truly tiny man, so small that even Ginny looked down on him unless he perched upon a pile of books as he did in his Charms classes. He was fairly old too, with a considerable amount of grey in his dark hair. Apparently, he'd been a duelling champion in his youth, but with his small stature and exceedingly pleasant disposition, Harry found it quite hard to believe.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

They headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouln't be on the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

"Boys!" Ginny cried indignantly. "Hermione, wait!"

She didn't, though.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch pitch where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ginny and Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

Under the paper was a gleaming wooden box engraved with elegant golden lettering.

Nimbus Racing Broom Company

Producing fine brooms since 1967

2000

The model number, unlike the rest, was written (drawn being a more accurate term) lengthways and in comparatively huge, but slender hand, such that it covered almost the entirety of the top of the box. Harry had to admit that the effect was rather attractive, but not nearly enough to justify the blissful, reverent looks the other two were giving it.

Ginny reached out hesitantly. "Harry ... do you think I could..." she said in hushed tones.

"Go ahead," Harry shrugged.

Ginny bit her lip, looked back up at Harry, then slid the top off the box. "Ohh..."

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick slowly appeared.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top. A brass frame straddled it in the box, apparently to be fitted as a sort of footrest. Ron reached out to touch it, but stopped short and just stared.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of bubble blowers, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling – he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!'

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So – that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper. I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it shooting off towards the nearer set of hoops. It did a quick about turn after a few seconds and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team – the Weasley twins are ours – it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers."

"Unless they crack my head open," said Harry, feeling more than a little on edge.

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages. I think the record is three months; they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

* * *

"Come on, Potter! Time to wake up, we've got practice! Now!"

Harry blinked rapidly, revealing a mass of scarlet around something pinkish and brown. He reached for his glasses, and they brought the world into some semblance of focus. The Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, was standing over him. Oliver glared down at him, and went straight back into the yelling.

"On the double, Potter — the game is in barely over a week from now!"

That was true enough. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The most highly anticipated game of the season, shuffled to the front of the schedule nearly two hundred years ago to minimise high-spirited hexing in the hallways.

"Alright, Oliver," he groaned. "I'll be down in a minute."

"That's the spirit!" Wood said enthusiastically. "The cup has our name on it this year, I'm telling you!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Oliver left. Checking the time, he discovered that it was half past five in the morning. He groaned again — he never, ever woke up this early. From his early morning physical training to his all-weather practice sessions, Wood was a curse. Harry looked over at his dorm mates, and saw (or heard) they were all happily snoring.

Stretching, he let out a slow yawn that left him even more aware of his weariness than before. The fight with a troll the previous night had taken something out of him, but it had given a lot in return, including Hermione, with whom he and Ron were now on much better terms. It seemed that there was something about saving a person from a violent, fourteen foot tall, rampaging troll that made them warm to you.

He dressed straight into Quidditch gear, since they were only rushing some training and a quick practice in before classes. The real practice lasted for three hours after classes. Harry really didn't mind all that much. His first class was Transfiguration, and McGonagall wanted them to win as much as Wood did, so being slightly late might not matter. And then there was the flying itself, which Harry thought was probably the best thing in the world. So, it wasn't so bad.

Like everyone else, he'd thought he'd been a bit lucky on his first flight, but after his first practice, he had to agree with Wood's assessment of him. He was a natural. He just didn't make mistakes — the whole thing of flying was second-nature to him, almost as if he'd been born to do this. Knowing when to pull out of fifty metre dives, knowing just when to reach out for the snitch, judging his balance when avoiding bludgers — it was all just too easy.

Of course, the broom he'd received from his head of house had helped. The Nimbus Two Thousand was beyond brilliant. It was so nimble, responding to the slightest shift, the barest nudge. He loved to stretch it to the limits, playing chicken with the stands or the ground. He had discovered the most satisfying thing in the whole world when he paced a bludger the length of the pitch then pulled back on the handle at full speed, completing a tight 180 and watching the bludger sail away, carried on by its own momentum.

Pulling his right boot on, he didn't even bother to tie up the laces before shoving his school robes into his bag. It was quarter past now, and he needed to get a move on. The sunlight was streaming through the windows, and he needed to be down at the pitch by a quarter to seven, or there was no point. He suddenly got the idea that Ginny was waking up. He didn't know where it came from, only that she had stirred from her rest. He grinned to himself, for if she was waking up now, she'd be there to watch him.

As he grabbed his broom, Harry decided to try something new. He threw open the window behind his bed. A cold wind slapped him in the face, finding all the gaps in his clothing and diving in, making his robes billow out behind him and wrapping his body in an icy embrace. Harry stared out across the school grounds, swathed in darkness. Being on the top floor of the tower, there was a long way to fall. He clambered up onto the windowsill and threw himself straight over the edge. Staring at the ground rush up to him gave him a thrill of fear and excitement. He delighted in it, revelling in the way his mind and body seemed to come alive with the urgency of his situation. All his weariness from the previous night, all of his worries about Snape and Vault 713 and the Slytherins ... it all faded away. Swinging the broom under him, he urged it forwards, and seconds later his feet were brushing the grass as the Nimbus overcame his descent.

He landed gently in the Entrance Hall, to see the twins and Angelina applauding and also holding their brooms — Cleansweep Fives for the twins and Angelina had a Nimbus 1950.

"Bravo," Angelina remarked. He grinned.

"Yes, an inspiring display," Fred said in an imitation of Percy's pompous manner.

"We're almost awake now," George added. He nodded his head back towards the Great Hall. "He's actually insane."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but I guess he is right. It is only a week."

"You'll want to stay away from that one, George — he's been infected."

"Will we ever be safe?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

"Oh shut it, you two," Angelina reprimanded. "If we want to do any practicing, we need to get a move on."

"But we don't. We want to sleep!"

She glared at Fred, and he sent a scathing look right back before rolling his eyes. "Actually, maybe we ought to get down there now, bro. We're already up, after all."

George smirked. "You know, I don't think Harry's the only one _infected_ around here."

Fred scowled, and muttered something that neither Harry nor Angelina heard, but George smirked still more broadly.

Attempting to divert Angelina's attention, and get everyone moving, he butted in. "Um, I was going to get some toast on the way to the pitch. Oliver isn't going to hex us for eating first, is he?"

"Doubt he'd try to hex you, o exalted one, especially since our Ginny seems to have employed herself as your personal bodyguard." Fred smirked as he blushed.

"Unless, of course, she's with you all the time for some other reason," George added.

"Get lost," he replied heatedly. He hurried through to the Great Hall, grabbed a few slices of toast, and flew off to the pitch without even buttering them. But he wasn't fast enough to miss the gails of laughter that followed him.

* * *

Hermione was, as she always was when she didn't have class, headed for the library. She didn't have much else to do usually, and she had picked up a burning curiosity about trolls after the encounter last night. She shivered in the morning air. Peeves, the school poltergeist, had broken windows all over the castle during the night. Some of the corridors still had minor flooding issues, and the hem of her robe was soaked through.

When she'd been told about Hogwarts, she'd hoped so desperately for something different. That there might be a school of children just like her, who couldn't care less about who kissed who behind the bike shed; people who wanted to further themselves in a world beyond imagination, and who caused terrible, terrible things in their fury. She remembered her first bit of accidental magic like it was yesterday.

She'd gone to the cloakroom at the end of the day to find her coat missing, for the umpteenth time. In her frustration, she'd called out for it. And to her surprise, it came soaring towards her. But she wasn't the only one who saw, and from then, the verbal abuse she got for not having any real friends and always knowing everything in class and so on, became real harassment. The story of her making her coat fly spread quickly, and everyone wanted to see her do it again. The teachers, of course, thinking it was all just a made up story, didn't interfere. But the other children, especially the ones who'd seen, were more than eager to see a magic trick. They were scared. What if she could do that to us? Will she be angry for the things we've said to her?

The second, and last example of her accidental magic, she lived with every day.

"Show us your trick," Anne demanded. Hermione had stayed late to talk to her maths teacher, and realised suddenly that the school was fairly empty half an hour after home time on a Friday.

"You've asked a million times," Hermione complained. "There's no trick."

"We saw it," Felicity argued. "Don't be stupid."

"You can do other stuff, too, can't you?" Katie snarled. "You're a witch or something, aren't you?"

"I'm not, I swear," Hermione replied tiredly. "Just leave me alone." She tried to push past and get out of the cloakroom where it all began two months before, but she was blocked off and pushed against the wall.

"Mehmehmehmehmehhh," Felicity mocked.

"Do it," Anne said firmly. "Or I'll get my brother to make you."

Her brother, John, was fourteen and played rugby. Hermione was a nine year old girl who read a lot of books and liked to go swimming from time to time. Her eyes widened. "What?" she asked faintly.

"That's right," Katie affirmed. "And all his friends. You're dangerous, you are."

"It'd be for all our good," Felicity smirked.

"I'll call Miss Mason," Hermione warned, backing away.

"No you won't," said Katie.

"You'll show us your tricks," Felicity said.

"Now," Anne added harshly.

"Don't make us make you," Katie warned.

Hermione trembled. Her fear became indignation. _'How dare they threaten me! I've done nothing to them!'_

When Felicity slapped her, her indignation turned into anger.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed. Shaking her head to clear her suddenly blurred vision, she found herself standing, sweating, over three quivering bodies. She didn't know what else to do. She ran. But no matter how fast her legs carried her, she couldn't escape their pale, terrified faces. She didn't understand what she'd done. She didn't understand why the three girls, who'd been perfectly happy to heckle her for the past few years, never spoke another word to her. But she knew she was somehow responsible.

Coming to Hogwarts had put hundreds of miles between her and those people. The distance helped, to a degree. Her studies helped a lot too. Burying herself in History of Magic or Transfiguration theory let her lose herself, at least for a while. But Ginny was the true godsend. There was something about her that just made Hermione feel at ease. When she talked to Ginny about magic, or Hogwarts, or how annoying Lavender and Parvati were being, or how Harry was trying to kill himself on his Nimbus ... she was normal. Ginny would never know quite how grateful she was for that.

The other girls in her dorm weren't too friendly with her though. Lavender and Parvati, for instance, were n't altogether different from the girls at her old school. They were gossipy, giggly and seemed infuriatingly shallow sometimes. The other girls, Rionach O'Neal and Fay Dunbar also tended to leave her alone, although they at least were not at all hostile.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince," Hermione whispered, "can you please dry my robes?"

She earned a near smile from the austere librarian. "It's refreshing to meet students with a proper appreciation for the sanctity of a library." She pulled out her wand and cast the drying charm over Hermione's robes and shoes. "You should find the Drying Charm in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3, but I would practice it for a while before using it on your clothes. It requires a certain _finesse_ if you don't wish to cause damage."

"Thank you, Madam Pince," Hermione said softly. "I've finished with these." She pulled _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and _Numerology and Grammatica_ out of her bag.

This did earn her a smile. "Keep this up, girl, and you may become one of the very few students of Hogwarts who can call themselves scholars. Tell me, do you have any aspirations for what you might do after you graduate?"

Hermione frowned slightly. "I was always sure I would go to a muggle university, but I won't get the qualifications I need if I'm at Hogwarts."

"Well I'm sure someone as studious as yourself will find a way," the librarian replied with a secretive smile.

Hermione felt a tingle of excitement. _'Challenge accepted.'_ "Thank you, Madam Pince," she replied. _'It seems so ridiculous... How can I achieve that, really? I'd have to be in two places at once!'_ She looked around at the long hall, and the staircase which connected the three floors of the library. Shaking her head, she cursed her lack of time. _'Time... NO WAY!'_ She could barely contain herself. Hermione turned to see Madam Pince signing her books off. "Did you mean time travel, Madam Pince?" she whispered.

The witch put a finger to her lips. "I don't know where you got an idea like that, but it was not from me." Hermione sagged slightly. _'Well, it was a nice idea, anyway.'_ Madam Pince smiled. "I cannot help you, child. These are powerful and dangerous things. But that is the path you seek, and you shall find it. Of that I have no doubt."

She blinked. _'What have I gotten myself into?'_ "Um, thank you?" she stuttered, before heading up the first flight of stairs to her usual reading spot. It wasn't her favourite. Her favourite was at the back of the ground floor near the Restricted Section, because it was the quietest area of the library she knew. However, Ginny insisted on a spot by the railing of the middle floor. It meant she got one of the best vantage points in the library. Hermione had only acquiesced because usually only the OWL and NEWT students ever needed to use the first floor. This meant that besides the occasional moaning potions students looking for books on whatever obscure topic Professor Snape had assigned them to, it tended to be bearable enough. Hermione had made Ginny swear to start working on a muffling charm in return, though.

She suddenly noticed that Ginny was already here. With Daphne Greengrass. A Slytherin. The blonde turned to look at her, and her blue eyes were like ice. _'She couldn't care less about you, leave her alone.'_

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny grinned. She sat at their table, and Daphne went straight back into a book about manticores.

Now that she thought about it, Ginny disappeared quite a lot. She'd attributed it to hanging out with the boys and watching quidditch practices before, but unless she much preferred their company (which worried her more than she wanted to admit), that just didn't add up. Perhaps she spent that time with people from other houses.

"Shouldn't you be going to see Dumbledore soon?" Hermione asked.

"I really love spending time with you too," Ginny replied teasingly. "I've got time. You really should have come down to Quidditch practice today."

Hermione gave her a look which clearly conveyed her feelings on the idea.

"No, seriously, it was hilarious," Ginny laughed. "Wood decided to dedicate the practice to physical training. I think Fred was going to shove his broom up his ar-"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered, though she was laughing herself. Daphne's face was hidden, but she couldn't conceal the way her shoulders were shaking. "You'll get us kicked out!"

"Harry's way stronger than he looks, you know," Ginny mused. "Or maybe he's just way more determined."

"Well, you know him better than I do," said Hermione.

"I guess," Ginny replied idly. "Still, he was the last one to stop running around the pitch, and that was because Fred stopped him. He'll probably work himself into the ground."

"If he doesn't fly himself there first," Hermione scowled. "Have you seen what he does on that broom?"

"Yeah, he's fantastic," Ginny grinned. "I know you don't think so, Hermione, but he enjoys it, doesn't he?"

"I suppose I shouldn't care," Hermione said. "But Hogwarts is supposed to be safe. They have wards here that limit spell damage and keep people from getting seriously injured. That's some fairly serious precautions. But what's the point if they let students break their necks on the Quidditch pitch?"

"Oh, he can handle himself just fine, Hermione," Ginny said assuredly. "He's broken a Killing Curse. I doubt a crash is going to do him in."

"How come you never seem to worry?" Hermione asked. Harry was nice enough to her most of the time, but she supposed she felt an extra fondness now for the three people who'd rescued her last night.

"I believe in him, I suppose," Ginny replied. "He's Harry Potter."

* * *

The last practice before the big game was meant to be started at 5 o'clock that Friday afternoon, but, of course, they had to be properly inspired and psychologically prepared for the feat that awaited them. So it started at 6 instead.

"Miss me, Potter?"

"Ginny!" he grinned .

"I got here just now," she said . "Fred and George warned me about that one. I decided to play safe." She didn't have to point to make herself clear.

"Yeah, um, Ginny, the thing is..."

"Look, Harry, you're the best Seeker any of us has ever seen. You'll win us that cup." She smiled at him, and walked up to find a seat.

"Thanks, Ginny," he called to her. There was so much pressure. He'd never felt so inspired before, and never been so afraid of failure. He sighed and mounted his Nimbus. Flying would clear his head. It always did.

* * *

"Come on, Harry, you need your strength. Seekers are the ones that always get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," he replied, watching him pile ketchup onto his sausages.

"Harry, you better eat something or else," Ginny glared at him. He gulped, and buttered some toast quickly, taking a bite of it. It tasted like cardboard. She smirked, then turned to engage Hermione in conversation. He tried to discretely put down the slice, but somehow, Ginny could just _tell_ , and sent him another glare. He shovelled down the rest of the toast as quickly as he could. "Oh, Harry, you'll get indigestion! That won't help you!"

He threw up his hands in exasperation as he spoke up. "What do you want from me?" George winked at him, and he scowled back.

"Well, I hope I don't have to feed you now, do I?" she said. Ron, Seamus and Dean cracked, and Neville looked like he wanted to. The twins' silence, even though they were a little way down the table, was worrying, but he ignored it. He shot her a glare, and began buttering another slice of toast. _'I'm going to have to make her pay for that one. Somehow.'_

"Good luck, Harry," Parvati and Lavender said together as they passed.

"Thanks," he replied. Ginny scowled, and he made a mental note. _'Ginny's getting jealous? Over me?'_ He smiled softly to himself, and munched on some infinitely better toast. Maybe his chances were better than he'd guessed. Now, if only he knew what to say.

"Good luck today, Potter," came a snide voice. His head snapped around. "Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a mountain troll, a little game of Quidditch ought to be easy work for you. Even if it is against ... Slytherin," Snape said before he walked off with a slight limp.

"That was all Ginny and Ron, professor," he called after Professor Snape. The professor snapped around to stare into his eyes. Then he sneered and continued on to the head table.

"Well, that explains the blood," Harry said.

"Eh?" Ron asked, not taking his narrowed eyes off the Professor.

"On Halloween," Harry continued, "after we _dealt_ with the troll, I saw blood on Snape's leg. Don't you remember, he left the Hall before all the other professors."

Hermione turned her head. "Are you suggesting..."

"Snape went to the third floor that night and got bitten," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Neville gasped. "He actually took that thing on?!"

"Shh, Neville, keep your voice down! But yeah, that's my theory."

"I hope you're wrong. Otherwise, Snape's vile, cruel and insane!"

"I don't think he's insane, Neville. I think he's just real desperate for whatever's under that trapdoor," Ginny suggested.

Neville opened his mouth then stopped, obviously thinking. "So he was probably scouting the place, then. Anyone got any theories on what's actually down there?"

There was a unanimous negative response. "There's only one person I can think of who might have an idea," said Harry. "We can go talk to him after the match, okay?" Harry said, getting nods from the others.

"Come on, Potter, Spinnet. We've got to get going," Oliver said, suddenly appearing.

"But Oliver," Alicia began, "the match is in an hour!"

"So we'll have plenty of time to ready ourselves. Now let's get moving!"

They both groaned. Fred and George grimaced as if to say, 'we're suffering too,' and they left to rousing choruses of good luck, and not just from their table, either.

Harry gave a small smile to his friends as he left, hoping to appear braver than he felt, and then followed the rest of the team to the Quidditch pitch. At least while Wood ranted and lectured, he'd be able to catch up on a little sleep.

* * *

Ginny smirked as the team left. Wood really was every bit as bad as the twins made out. She was surprised there hadn't been a mutiny. _She_ was still hungry. _'Though, I don't think I'm ever_ that _hungry.'_ She tried not to look at Ron's display. She sometimes wondered if he actually needed to swallow, or if it just all slid straight down.

"Nice banner, Dean!" she commented, as he brought out a colourful banner which read 'Potter for President' and had two lions either side. "You're pretty good at drawing."

"Thanks ," he replied happily. "I couldn't bring it out while Harry was still here. Anyway, Hermione, I was hoping, maybe you knew a charm to make the writing flash, or something cool like that."

"Oh, yes, I do actually. I don't know if this will work very well, since I haven't practiced it before, but I saw it in a charms book last weekend," she replied, at which Ron rolled his eyes. " _Fulgor cum coloratum lumen !_ " The writing went from a solid red to vibrant flashing scarlet and gold.

"Cheers, Hermione," he said. They all took a moment to admire her handiwork. She really was brilliant. Dean grinned at Hermione before starting to roll it up.

"Wait, Dean," Ginny interrupted, "I want to try something."

"Um, okay, Ginny." He unrolled it again, and she held her hand over it and concentrated. She closed her eyes, and imagined the lions rearing and roaring, willing them to come to life. She began to hear roars in her head, and thought it was merely her still imagining it until...

"Bloody hell!" She looked up to see Ron, with a lot of pumpkin juice down his front, his eyes popping. She looked back to Dean, who was a little stunned, and looked down at the lions. She realised then that they were roaring quite loudly. Most of the Great Hall was looking at them. The beasts were pacing up and down in the banner, confined to either end by the text, and were no longer the pale imitations of an eleven year old boy. They appeared to be actual lions trapped in the linen.

Hermione didn't even bother with scolding Ron. "Ginny, I'm pretty sure that was at least O.W.L. charm work!"

O.W.L.s, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, were the first level of wizarding qualifications, which they worked towards between third and fifth year. Above these were the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, which was as far as school took them. Beyond that you could get an apprenticeship, but it would all be about making a name for yourself. Such as Ginny Weasley, Chaser Extraordinaire and Star of the Holyhead Harpies...

"Yeah, well, you know how this thing works," she replied quietly. She was smouldering with the spell's heat discharge, and suddenly felt like she'd just sprinted all the way from the dorm. "I better go. If we leave the team to Wood they'll fall asleep on their brooms, or go crazy."

"See you, Ginny," Ron said, his mouth empty for once.

"Yeah, see you," Dean and the others chorused. "You don't think there's something we can do to shut it up for now do you?" she heard him mutter. She smirked. He was going to have serious earache in a minute.

"Just roll the thing up," Seamus suggested.

She drew a deep breath of fresh air as she stepped out of the massive doors of the Entrance Hall. It was a beautiful day, if a bit cold. _'But then, we're in Scotland.'_ She began the trek down to the Quidditch Pitch. The team had left about ten minutes or so ago, so they'd probably just gotten in, unless they'd flown. Knowing Harry, he probably had. She smiled. He loved flying. _'With that broom, anyone would love flying! Except maybe Hermione or Neville.'_ She had a guilty little laugh thinking of how they might react to the Nimbus, considering the mess they made of themselves on the school brooms.

She was wondering whether Ron and the twins would let her play Quidditch now that Ron had seen her fly, when she realised she'd reached the bridge to the Pitch. She sat on the edge and dangled her legs over the side, gazing down into the blue water. Every now and then, a fish would come into view, before descending again. She wondered how deep it was. Just for an instant, she saw straight through to the bottom, at least ten metres below the surface. She sat there for a while, contemplating cooling off in it. She could dry herself and her clothes afterwards...

She got up and took a swan dive off the other side, breaking the water's surface with barely a splash. Ginny took a moment to look around at the fish swimming past her. They didn't seem to care that she was there. Right at the bottom, she could see the tail end of an old broom that was rotting to pieces. Some Seeker had clearly run out of luck on passing the bridge. Feeling the need for air, she kicked up to the surface and felt the sun on her face. Her dry face. She hadn't thought about shielding herself from the water, but somehow she'd done it anyway. The heat generated by the charm was being carried away quickly enough by the water, so she felt cool and refreshed regardless. She climbed out, and noticed that she had a little audience.

"Hi Fay," Ginny said.

"Hey," the annoyingly tall girl replied. Fay Dunbar was Ginny's polar opposite in that respect, and only Ron was taller than her. Apart from that, they had a great deal in common, from things as trivial as the length they kept their hair, through hobbies like singing and taking the piss out of the bullies in Slytherin, right up to a life goal of playing quidditch. Unfortunately for her, she favoured the Beater position, which meant she was unlikely to make the Gryffindor starting lineup until sixth year. "Thought I'd come down early and get decent seats. How come you aren't wet?"

"Shield Charm," Ginny shrugged.

"You're getting really good at that wandless magic, aren't you?" Fay grinned. "I heard you and Hermione talking a few days ago."

Ginny groaned. "No one's supposed to know..."

"Ginny, don't be stupid," Fay rolled her eyes. "You have a special timetable, and out of the blue you're setting a broom on fire. Now, you animate a drawing in front of the entire great hall by passing your hand over it. Even if people don't know, they'll figure it out."

"I guess you're right," she agreed. "Come on, let's find somewhere to sit. I guess it would have gotten pretty boring up there without any company."

"No kidding," Fay laughed. "Still, you could've gone down and annoyed Wood."

"Yeah, there's that," Ginny smirked. "But I kind of want Gryffindor to win."

* * *

"Fred, George, you can pretty much ignore their Seeker. Harry's a far better flyer, and his broom will leave the guy for dust." He suddenly realised Wood was probably looking at him, and tried to look like he'd been paying attention. He gave his captain a weak smile. "What's wrong with you lot? This is IT! The big one!"

"The one we've aw-all been waiting for," George yawned. Wood glared, and Katie giggled.

"We know his speech off by heart," Fred said to Harry. "We were on the team last year."

"Shut it you two. We _will_ win this year. This has to be one of the best teams Gryffindor has ever seen. We have chasers who are so synchronised it's like you can read each other's minds." Angelina smirked towards Katie at that comment. "Our beaters are world-class."

"Oh, Oliver, you're too much," Fred simpered. The girls giggled, and Oliver started glaring again.

"We have the youngest seeker in a hundred years, and if that doesn't say something, I don't know what does."

"Don't go forgetting yourself, Oliver," Katie grinned.

"Yeah, we think you're quite good, too," George added.

"So, we're going to get out there and show those bloody Slytherins how to fly!"

"Yeah!" everyone shouted.

They grabbed their brooms and trooped out of the changing room. They could already hear the crowd forming. Then, out of nowhere, Ginny appeared. Harry grinned.

"Has Hermione defeated her hate of flying for this?"

"Yeah, but that's not why I'm here," she said quietly. Then, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek! "For luck." Then she ran off, leaving him gaping in her wake, holding a hand tenderly to his cheek, which was still tingling.

"Come on, Potter, you can finish what she just started _after_ the game," Angelina laughed. He didn't even bother to argue with her, being still stunned as he was. Grabbing his arm, she tugged him insistently toward the gate. He wasn't quite sure why they called it a gate, since there wasn't a gate there ... He looked out on the pitch, and saw the students fighting for the best seats. _'What can possibly go wrong today?'_

They all mounted their brooms. He was at the front with Wood, the twins were behind them, and the chasers behind them, with the two reserve chasers Finkley and Taylor bringing up the rear. He wondered absently why he'd never spoken to either of them, when he heard the whistle summoning them onto the pitch. He kicked off, and zoomed off into the sky, leaving the rest of the team behind him. A few loop-the-loops, barrel rolls and laps of the pitch later, he let his broom drift down towards Madam Hooch, and scanned the crowds for Ginny as well as Ron, Hermione and Neville.

With the loss of the wind in his ears, he heard some ground-shaking roars from his left. There was an enormous banner which read 'Potter for President', and had a couple of very realistic lions roaring and growling. Ginny was holding it in the middle, draped as it was over the front of the Gryffindor stands. The whole of his form was with her, even Alice, who wasn't at all fond of quidditch. He grinned, and looked to Ginny, who was the only one not yelling or whooping. She blushed, but didn't break eye contact.

He finally turned his attention back to Madam Hooch, who was talking.

"... nice fair game, all of you!" He couldn't help but give a snort. The Slytherin captain, Flint, looked like he had a bit of troll blood in him. He just wanted to get going again. Luckily for him, his note of disbelief was lost to the wind. She blasted open the ball box with some kind of jinx, then sent the quaffle rocketing upwards. The game was on. He soared up above everyone else, and began his search.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too..."

"Jordan!" McGonagall cried.

Grinning, Harry settled for watching the game for a little while as the snitch proved elusive. Suddenly, there it was — the snitch! Or so he thought, until he realized exactly what was shining by one of the twins' broom handles. _'Dammit, they ought to have taken their bloody watches off!'_ He glided around, trying to get a glimpse of it while listening to Lee Jordan's commentary. It appeared McGonagall was sitting right behind the megaphone just to keep control of him. He ducked quickly to avoid a painful headshot from a bludger, and grinned as Fred or George smacked it at Flint. Then the whole world slowed.

"Pucey has the quaffle, ducks both bludgers, Weasleys, and Chaser Bell — is that the snitch?!" Pucey dropped the quaffle to stare at the flash of gold that zoomed by his ear.

Harry snapped into action, the whole world around him a blur as he focused entirely on the glint of gold. It was a unique experience. He had never been this fast before. Uncle Vernon kept strictly two miles an hour below the limit on the motorway while they were running from Hagrid. The top speed of his Nimbus was over a hundred miles an hour, and he was closing on a hundred now, from the way the broom was humming. Everything around him was reduced to a colour, stretching behind him to infinity. All sound was drowned out by the wind in his ears. The Slytherin Seeker, Higgs, had been closer but Harry left the bigger boy behind in only seconds. His focus was on the snitch, and his opponent just didn't matter.

He could see all the beautiful detail on the snitch now, as it dashed around ahead of him, twitching from side to side, up and down. He was gaining on it quickly. The chase would last seconds, but time stretched out. He extended his arm and it turned over his head and sped the other way. He squeezed tight to his broom, cursing under his breath, and tugged on the handle. The forces pulled at his gut, and he didn't even bother to upright himself. He was too close to let go now, and he focused on simply accelerating. The broom was more than just humming now, it was tangibly vibrating with energy. He urged it on, barely noticing as he left Higgs behind again.

It was no more than ten inches now, nine... _'Is it actually possible for time to slow down like this?'_ It was the last thought that crossed his mind before time was restored to normal with a disturbing crunch. He'd hit something. Hard. As he clung desperately to his broom, trying to level himself out and stop spinning, he heard Hooch yelling at Flint. _'Bastard. I had that thing!'_ He'd put himself in between Harry and the snitch, and Harry had collided with some part of him. _'I hope it hurt like hell!'_

"He won't do that again!" one of the twins called to him. "You hit him in the arse, Harry!" He laughed and looked up to his friends in the stands. Ginny was giving Flint a death glare. Hagrid was there with a pair of binoculars, and was grinning at him. He must have seen where Harry'd hit him. But Harry barely noticed. Seeing Ginny standing up for him like that gave him such a warm feeling inside... He shook his head, and looked for the snitch. He was still a little dazed. It had been a pretty high-speed collision, and considering what happened to cars at lower speeds, he was astonished his broom wasn't harmed. _'Maybe magical protections. Ron'll know.'_

He couldn't find the snitch, but he noticed that Gryffindor had scored a couple of times while everyone was distracted by the discovery of the snitch. Lee was making a lot of comments on the Slytherins' tactics, and McGonagall's reprimands seemed a little half-hearted to him. Alicia scored the penalty Hooch had awarded with no trouble, and then suddenly... _'Bloody hell!'_ He was chucked to the side, and, thinking that the broom had been damaged after all, he tried to gently lower it. Then, he realised that he no longer had any control over his precious Nimbus. It was trying to throw him off!

"Fred! My broom!" he yelled. Play had just started. Both twins turned to him, and swore loudly. One of them flew to him to try and help, while the other sped off towards Hooch. _'I can't do this for much longer...'_ He tried to reach a hand out to grab the twin's outstretched arm, but the broom shot up a metre or so, and he had to wrap himself tightly and completely around it. He gave up on the footrests in favour of hooking and locking his legs around the handle, thanking his short frame, since he was in no danger of poking his eye out on the end of the bucking broomstick.

Hooch's whistle rang out piercingly, and Harry thanked whatever deity that she had noticed his predicament. He was going to give the twins anything they wanted at Christmas. The bucking slowed, and an ominous thought crossed his mind. _'What if it's only stopped because someone was doing something to it and didn't want to be caught?'_

"What on earth was that, Potter?" Madam Hooch demanded as she rose to meet him.

"It just started bucking randomly, and I couldn't control it," he gasped.

"I believe you, Potter. That kind of thing can't be faked easily. The question is why. It couldn't have been the collision, which means..." Her hawk-like eyes scanned the crowd. He looked toward the teachers' box, and saw Snape there. Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion, and the p rofessor glared back. "I'll have to talk to the Headmaster about putting more wards here. Are you alright with getting back into the game, Potter?"

"Yes, Madam Hooch."

"Right then. Ascensius quaffle!" It rocketed upward once more. He rose with it, scanning for the snitch. Flint was rising to catch the quaffle. He knew he wasn't allowed to touch it, so he turned to face Flint with a predatory glint in his eye, which made the chaser back off subconsciously. Harry grinned, nodded curtly to him, and zoomed off to circle above the pitch. The Nimbus started jerking again, but then there was a loud crash, and it calmed down. He looked over to the teachers' box, and saw that half of it had collapsed. Back in the Gryffindor stands, Ginny had her arms stretched out and her eyes were glowing slightly. He grinned at her, grateful for the intervention, and she grinned back, blushing again. Madam Hooch didn't even bother to stop the game.

He accelerated rapidly into a steep dive to vent his feelings, and whooped, then choked. He barely managed to pull out of the dive before his choking forced him off his broom. The impact knocked the snitch out of his windpipe, and it fell to the ground. Harry grabbed it in case it tried to fly off, but he really needn't have bothered. Saliva was trickling down from the weakly fluttering wings and dripping off the snitch onto his sleeve. He jumped back on his broom, holding the snitch aloft for all to see. Once Lee had declared it, and Hooch had blown the end-of-game whistle, Harry threw it into the air.

He knew the rest of the team would have wanted to celebrate the win with him, but he didn't care. He glided toward his friends, jumped off his Nimbus, dropped it to the ground, and kissed Ginny. He'd known he wanted to do it for weeks, and after all, Ginny had kissed him before the game, so what was wrong with him doing the same? Well, it wasn't the same — it was on the lips this time, but from Ginny's reaction, she didn't mind at all. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he put one arm around her waist and the other hand in her glorious hair. He didn't hear the whistles, the catcalls... Nor did he hear the sounds of outrage from Ron, or Hermione, Neville and Seamus restraining him. All he knew was Ginny.

They slowly broke apart, their eyes locked together now. "Good game, Harry," she whispered.

He chuckled, "Good curse."

"Mmm."

Ginny's hair was so soft to the touch, her body felt so light, her lips so warm and yielding...

"Not that we didn't see this one coming-"

"But if you don't stop soon, it'll be imprinted on everyone's minds for the rest of time."

Ginny pulled away, scowling. "Go away, you two, or I'll hex you so bad your faces will never look the same again!"

"Who are we to get in the way?" one of them laughed.

"Just be sure to leave some of him for the rest of us, eh?" Katie called. Harry blushed. Ginny responded with a vibrant string of curses that made him want to wash her mouth out, before dragging him away from the throng of screaming boys and girls.

When an ominous grinding sound came from the teachers' box, the crowd was distracted just long enough for Ginny to pull him into the support structure of one of the parents' boxes.

Harry let out his breath and collapsed against a strut. "That had to be the jammiest catch I've ever taken."

"Yeah, even worse than that time Fred hit it at you with his bat," Ginny giggled.

Harry threw his Nimbus a little deeper into the foundations, where it hovered, waiting. "They're really making a big deal out of it, aren't they?"

"They should be," Ginny grinned. "You should've seen Malfoy's face! He was ready to pop!"

Harry laughed aloud. He felt so incredibly free. "Come on," he said. "Let's explore this place. Someone's bound to look under here soon."

"Sure," she replied, jumping onto the broom behind him. He felt a powerful urge to do something very stupid and impressive the moment he felt her arms and legs wrap around him.

He drove the broom through a series of corkscrews, diving down into the network of wooden beams and stone columns that held the tall box up. They soon discovered that there was far more room here than they had imagined. In fact, there seemed to be an underground passage connecting all the structures together. Harry weaved effortlessly through the maze, dropping to the hard packed earth ten or so metres below.

"Well, I wasn't expecting this," Ginny said.

"Or this," Harry replied, flipping the broom over backwards and kicking it into a few tight backward spins around a cross beam before rocketing up the box they were under. Ginny was screaming in delight as they dodged entire platforms, squeezing through gaps meant only for people on the stairwell.

They shot out over the box seats, and saw the crowds returning to the castle. The noise of their conversations was filtered slightly by the winds, but Harry knew that the celebrations in the common room would be raucous. He grinned back at Ginny, and started playing with the now docile snitch. _'Yes, Hagrid. I_ am _a bloody wizard.'_


	4. 04 - Home Is Where Your Heart Is

Harry went up to his dorm with a deep sense of foreboding. He'd managed to avoid Ron so far, what with the enormous party that had been thrown in the common room, but that luck was almost certainly about to run out. Ginny's goodnight kiss had taken some of the weight off – his lips were still tingling. However, he knew that Ron's reaction was as far from the twins' as was possible. Percy wasn't particularly happy, but he was okay with it. Ron, well... Neville refused to repeat the stuff Ron had said, and Seamus just grimaced when Harry asked about it.

He pushed open the door to find a wand trained at his heart. "Ron, I know you don't know any duelling spells yet," he said calmly. Getting annoyed with his best friend was not going to help him.

"Well, that goes to show that I pay a lot more attention to Ginny than you do," Ron stated. "I just have to want something to happen to you bad enough, and believe me, that isn't going to be hard.

"And I happen to know that she'd Bat Bogey Hex you till you passed out and then bury you."

Ron scowled. "She doesn't understand. She wouldn't, or she'd have slapped you in the stands back there. You're taking advantage of the crush she has on you, and you know it."

"And I'm taking advantage of you being useless with a wand, dear brother," Ginny deadpanned from the doorway. "Eruptus Nasus Chiroptera."

There was barely time for his face to register his shock, as the winged bogeys burst from his nostrils. "Aargh!"

"I suppose this was for the best," she said. "Better sooner than later, anyway."

"Um, yeah," he replied, fixated on Ron's panicked form on the floor. "That looks painful. Aren't you going to take it off?"

"Sure," she said nonchalantly. With a wave of her hand, he was relieved of further torment. However, his face was still covered in snot, and he didn't seem to want to get up anytime soon.

"

That was kind of cruel," Harry muttered, slightly unnerved.

"Well, he ought to have known what was coming," Ginny answered. "I don't use it much, but he's seen it before. What did he think, anyway? I can't decide for myself who I kiss?"

"How did you know to come up here?" Harry asked.

"I was waiting at the bottom of the boys' staircase to begin with, and I heard you two. I didn't want him hurting you. I like you just as you are." They both blushed, but she was smiling.

"How could you have heard us though? We weren't exactly shouting," Harry pressed.

"I don't know. Ron was loud enough," she said.

"I suppose..." said Harry.

"I just got a feeling, I guess, like I should be here with you." They didn't notice Ron get up.

"Ginny," Ron began, "you are too young for this, and I know Mum will agree. You can't stop me telling her – you'll have to tell her yourself at some point, unless you want to leave it to the twins."

"I'm not too young!" she answered hotly. "We've seen Muggles younger than us kissing in the village!"

"Yeah, but they're Muggles," Ron replied confusedly. Blood began to trickle slowly out of his nose. He rubbed it away irritably.

"So? They're still human," said Ginny. "Ask Hermione about it. Seriously, it'll be funny to see her react to crap like that."

"Whatever. You guys have known each other for what? Three months? This isn't right." He stared at them for a while before slumping. "I'm going to go get rid of this." He gestured to his face as he left for the bathroom.

"Do... Do you think he's right?" Harry asked tentatively. Things had gotten better and better for him ever since Hagrid showed up. The thought of the house of cards falling now filled him with trepidation. But on top of this, he still couldn't dismiss the thought of how easy it was for Ginny to do something like that to someone.

"Do you think he's right?" Ginny asked. She sounded almost... vulnerable.

"I don't want him to be," said Harry.

"Me either," Ginny affirmed.

"I really like you, Ginny," Harry said, blushing. "You're pretty and smart and..."

"Thanks Harry," Ginny smiled, flushing brightly as she did, "I really like you too."

They stood in silence for a minute, not looking at each other. Harry put doubts about his friendship with Ginny behind him easily - he didn't want to care. But there was still something niggling at him.

"You really like that hex, don't you?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm the youngest and the only girl. Sometimes it's hard to be heard."

Harry took her hand. "I'll always listen."

Ginny looked at him for a moment, then embraced him tightly. _**'I... I know.'**_

"Good."

Ginny's head snapped up to meet his gaze. "Huh?"

"It's good that you know?" Harry half said, half asked.

"Harry, I didn't say that, I only thought it," Ginny said, bemused. She stepped back, and Harry's arms flopped awkwardly back to his sides. "At least I'm pretty sure I did."

Harry stared at her.

She gave him a contemplative look, then he saw the light bulb go off in her head. She grasped his hand tightly.

 ** _'Harry?'_**

"No way!" Harry exclaimed. "That is... wow."

 ** _'I know right? You try.'_**

Harry grimaced in concentration, trying to focus on Ginny. **_'Can you hear me?'_**

 ** _'Loud and clear!'_** she laughed.

 ** _'We have to figure out how to make this work without touching,'_** Harry enthused.

 ** _'Of course,'_** Ginny replied. **_'But later. We have to be up for classes tomorrow morning.'_**

"Goodnight then, Ginny," Harry grinned.

"Wait," she said. "There's something we have to talk about first."

Her demeanor was shifting, and Harry started to see more of the Ginny from the train. Cute, but not really her. "What is it, Ginny?"

Her face was reddening. "We're..." she squeaked. "I mean, after the match? Are we, you know?"

"Uh..." Harry scratched the back of his neck, starting to feel uncomfortable. "More than friends?"

She nodded hesitantly, not meeting his eyes.

"

Hey, stop that," he chided, lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him. "Timid doesn't suit you."

She smirked a bit at that.

"Yeah. At least I hope so," he laughed nervously.

She beamed at him, then jumped on him, holding him so tightly it hurt. "It just seems so like a dream..." Ginny whispered.

"Yeah, it does," he agreed.

"I'm never going to let you go," she said firmly.

Harry laughed. "I believe you, but I reckon that's going to make the guys a little uncomfortable."

Seamus sniggered from the doorway.

"Screw them," she replied.

Seamus roared with laughter. "Well don't mind us then," he said, diving onto his bed. Neville too went straight for his bed, but Dean and Ron lingered at the doorway. "If you two fall asleep there, we ain't gonna tuck y'in."

"Pheh," Ginny replied, "we're right by the boiler, we'll be plenty warm."

"Well then I'm going to sleep. Have fun," Seamus chuckled before shutting his curtains.

"Me too, I'm knackered," Neville said. "You should go to bed, Ron, Dean."

Dean relented, but Ron didn't. "Not till they let go of each other."

"Oh buzz off, Ron," Ginny sighed. She did let go of Harry, though. She gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, boyfriend," she smiled.

Harry grinned as she left. He felt strange tingles all over.

"Harry, look, I don't like this. I still think you're taking advantage of her."

"Jesus, Ron, he's happy, she's happy, just piss off and leave 'em be!" Seamus yelled. Dean and Neville snorted with laughter as they tried desperately not to offend Ron with their mirth.

Harry laughed nervously. "I don't mean to upset you, Ron, I just... Ginny's..."

"Don't bother," Ron replied, before shutting himself inside his bed.

Harry sat on his own bed, conflicting feelings tearing at him. Someone tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Just give him some time," Neville whispered.

"Thanks mate," Harry smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As he lay down to go to sleep, Harry felt a connection to this bed, this dorm, this tower and all the people in it that he had never known before, in spite of Ron's enmity. Drifting off into dreams of friends and flying, Harry's last thoughts were that he had finally found a place to call home.

Unbeknownst to him, at that point, a delicate silver instrument in Professor Dumbledore's office exploded in a shower of brilliant white sparks.

* * *

Harry had a wonderful night's sleep, but he'd been getting a funny feeling lately. His scar was always either tingling or itching. It didn't bother him enough to make him worry about it, but it was still pretty annoying. He lay awake at five in the morning, untouched by weariness. The previous day had probably been - no, definitely was - the best day of his life. He'd won his first ever Quidditch match decisively, kissed the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and most everyone, especially Ginny herself, was cool with it. There were still her parents though, and her two eldest brothers. He wasn't even sure about her youngest brother. _'Or is that youngest elder brother? I'm definitely up too early!'_

He felt something stir in his head, and was reminded of the first time he'd felt it. He'd been halfway between sleeping and waking then, too, and he could feel the two separate entities. Now, he considered the possibility that they were the same thing. In his head, something was ... intensifying, or maybe waking up. About ten metres in front of him, behind the wall between Dean's and Seamus's beds, he somehow knew that something had just shifted. It really was Ginny. He could feel her! Then, the presence in the first year girls' dorm began to steadily move. He got up quickly, eager to see for himself if he was right. But his body protested its lack of rest, and he collapsed with blue and white splodges erupting under his eyelids. He waited for the nausea to pass, and the presence was, by this time, starting down the stairs.

He dressed quickly, and rushed down in pursuit. He made sure to keep his steps quiet as he padded down the stone steps in only pyjamas and socks, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. He passed the second year dorm entrance and came out into the common room right behind a familiar, red-haired head. He smirked, his theory proven. His hands shot out to her sides, and within seconds, she was on the floor, squirming.

"Good morning." He said cheerfully, letting her up and thinking he'd won. More fool he. Ten seconds later, he was the one on the floor, begging for mercy.

"It is now," she said with a grin. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then sat back on her heels. "Were you waiting for me?"

"No." She raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. "I kind of felt you come down."

"Do you think this has anything to do with the talking silently thing?"

"I think I'd like to get up and continue this conversation on a sofa."

"No, I like you where you are," she replied with another impish grin.

"Then, you're going to have to join me." He pulled her down to the ground, and she resisted, obviously, so he let go suddenly and she fell on her bum with a thud.

"Shut up or I'll hex the smile off your face," she growled.

Harry didn't reply, he only gave her a challenging look.

Ginny squinted at him then got to her feet. "You win, come on."

"How am I winning here?" he mock-grumbled.

She grinned, and his stomach did another somersault. "I think you wanted to ask me about hexing my brothers last night before we got distracted?"

"I think I've got a good idea by now, but yeah."

She bit her lip. "I reckon you've got a pretty good idea too."

"So fill in the gaps for me," Harry prompted, sitting down in an armchair which she squeezed into next to him.

She sighed. "Harry, I'm the youngest in a pretty big family. My brothers all considered me kind of fragile. Ron only hung around with me if there was no one else, especially after Percy left. But the twins were always hard on him, so he often found himself stuck with me. Which often led to him being alone for quite a while." She smirked. "Anyway, Bill and Charlie were the only ones who ever actually wanted to spend time with me, and listened to me. I was the daughter my Mum always wanted, but she wanted a wallflower to fawn over."

"Well you sure aren't that," Harry smiled.

From the little time he had known her, Harry was sure that Ginny could never be content with sitting around looking pretty. In fact, he didn't think she'd even be happy with just sitting. He'd noticed lately that she was randomly disappearing every now and then with little or no explanation or warning.

"I know," Ginny frowned. "That was the problem. I wanted to fly with my brothers, explore the village... But apparently I'm fragile because I'm a girl. Worse, being Mum's favorite made me the twins' ultimate target. So I had a bunch of restrictions put on me, and the only bonus was some favour with my parents. It's nice to be able to pin stuff on the twins, but soon that starts to feel hollow. Bill taught me that hex so I could defend myself without having to hide behind Mum's apron. The twins never forgave him."

"I can see why," Harry snorted.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Still, doesn't help with Mum. I have to sneak around to do anything I want to do."

"Tell me about it," Harry replied sardonically.

"Oh Harry, I didn't mean to compare it to you!" Ginny exclaimed, horrified.

"It doesn't bother me," Harry said uncomfortably. "I mean..." They sat in an awkward silence for a while.

"The twins did some fairly nasty things to earn that hex, you know," Ginny said. "I was kinda showing off for you on the train."

"Why would you want to show off for me?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Because you're Harry Potter," she answered, blushing brilliantly.

"But you know me now," Harry said. "I'm nothing special."

"You've been at Hogwarts three months and been made the youngest seeker in a century, and been bought a Nimbus 2000 by the school," Ginny reminded him. "Nothing special my arse."

Harry had to laugh. "If you say so. But I still don't think so. I mean, I'm famous for something I don't even remember, that I sure as hell didn't do myself. I mean, you're special because of your loyalty, and the way that I feel when I see you smile, and-"

"Oh stop it," Ginny whispered, blushing down to her neck.

Harry kissed her now very warm cheek. "Tell me about how the twins earned your hex."

* * *

"So how come you two were up so early?" Ron asked across the Gryffindor table. Neville looked askance at him, clearly having inferred his own version of events.

"We wanted to hear the dawn chorus, Ron," Ginny said flatly.

Ron made a face. "You two are already mushy, and you had your first kiss yesterday!"

"What can I say, Ron? Your sister brings out the best in me," said Harry.

Ron snorted in disgust. "Well, so long as that was all, I guess," he muttered before starting to eat. **_'If eating is the right word for that...'_**

Ginny giggled. They were keeping minimum contact between themselves - just their elbows were touching. **_'I'm sure Fred and George could inspire you.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _That would just be cruel, Ginny.'_**

It was half an hour before their meal was interrupted, and Harry wasn't sure whether he was glad or disappointed that it wasn't Malfoy. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Could you see me in my office after breakfast, if it isn't too much trouble?" came Professor Dumbledore's voice from behind him. Everyone in the area looked up, surprised.

"Um, of course, sir." Harry answered.

He smiled and leaned in a little, beginning to whisper. "Just by the by, Harry, I am rather fond of Fruit Pastilles."

Harry was nonplussed, he had to admit. Luckily, he had a quick-witted girl on his arm.

'It's the password. He must have changed it. It was raspberry jam when I last went up there.'

The understanding must have been visible on his face, because the headmaster winked, and left.

"What was all that about?" Neville asked.

"Yuh, wuh wus thu, Hurry?" Ron slurred with a mouthful of sausage.

"Eurgh, Ron, that's disgusting!" Hermione scolded.

"Wuh?" Ron asked.

"Oh, choke on it," Hermione snapped.

Neville sniggered quietly.

Having finally swallowed, Ron turned on Neville. "What's so funny?"

"Hermione's growing fangs, look," he laughed. She blushed slightly, but ignored the laughter.

"Back to topic, what do you think Professor Dumbledore wants to talk about, Harry? I doubt this is a routine interview," Hermione prodded.

"Not a clue. I guess I'll be finding out soon enough." He started eating faster, whether out of nerves or out of eagerness, he wasn't quite sure.

 _ **'**_ _ **He can't have found out about us, can he?'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Ginny, if he hasn't, then his status in the Wizarding World would be in considerable danger. We were kissing for an indefinite amount of time in front of the entire school yesterday.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **He wasn't there.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **He's Dumbledore.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Besides, I meant the mind-talking thing.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **I know, but I couldn't resist,'**_ he smirked. She slapped his arm.

 _ **'**_ _ **Go on, then.'**_ She kissed him briefly, then shoved him off the bench.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." He lifted a sausage from her plate, having already finished with his own and ran from her, laughing. She glared, and from her finger came a pink streak which hit him in the bum, making him jump as he ran. He smirked back at her before leaving her line of sight.

"What was that?" Neville asked timidly.

"Oh, just a Pinching Hex. Or at least I think it was. Maybe I just invented it!" Neville's eyes widened and she giggled. "Don't worry, Neville. I haven't any inclination to test on you. Yet." He gulped visibly. "I have brothers for that."

"Hey!" Ron cried in outrage, his forkful of egg for once forgotten halfway to his mouth. Ginny just grinned wider and returned to her food. She didn't really need to test her spells, since she usually knew what they did before she tried them, and she hadn't a clue how to reproduce those results with a wand. There was still no news of a wand for her from her mother, but she supposed her parents had decided there wasn't much point. Still, she would need one next year, when she had classes with the rest of her peers.

 _ **'**_ _ **If only I could stay in Harry's year.'**_

* * *

"Erm, Fruit Pastilles." He felt a bit awkward calling out the name of a random Muggle sweet to a stone statue, but the gargoyle sank back into the wall, and began to spin, bringing the stairs up with it like a corkscrew. Harry was so entranced just watching it that he nearly forgot to get on, and had to jump up to reach the bottom step before it drifted out of reach.

"Come in, Harry." He hesitated before entering, a little disconcerted by the headmaster's ability to sense his presence.

"Good morning, Professor," he said as he closed the door. There was a beautiful scarlet and gold bird on a perch behind the old professor, who he guessed was Fawkes, from Ginny's descriptions.

"I'm sure you are wondering why you are here," he asked rhetorically, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Um..."

He gestured to a bare tabletop. All the tables besides the one the headmaster was sitting at seemed very delicate, with spindly legs. "There was an instrument upon that one just like the rest. It monitored the wards on 4 Privet Drive. You may have noticed that you were never done any lasting physical harm while there. Something happened last night that removed the wards as if they'd never even existed. The monitoring instrument literally disintegrated. There are few things that could have done this."

"Did I do something?"

"It is possible. You see, the wards only last while you are under 17, and both you and someone else carrying your mother's blood in their veins call the place home."

His eyes widened. "Professor, I ... I think..."

"Yes, I see you have reached the same conclusion as I, since it is quite doubtful that either Petunia or Dudley Dursley recently decided that their accommodation was no longer to their liking."

"So, um, sir, does that mean that I can't go back there?" he asked in a small voice, doubtful as to just how good his life could get.

He sighed. "Alas, I would have preferred that the wards had remained and you could, since the wards were some of the most powerful in existence. However, you do indeed require a new home."

Barely keeping a hold on his happiness, he had to dig his fingers hard into his palms to stop himself from grinning. He doubted Dumbledore would appreciate it. "Um, sir, do you have any ideas as to where I might be living from now on?"

"Well, I certainly have ideas, but this is a decision of great importance, and I must employ time to aid me in making it."

"So, I, um, won't be going back to the Dursleys?" he asked again, the facts not quite sinking in. The headmaster looked him in the eyes, Dumbledore's blue ones twinkling unnaturally, almost as if there were clusters of stars shining... Dumbledore frowned slightly, and relaxed his intense gaze. Harry blinked, feeling a strange and sudden migraine coming on.

"No, it would be most inadvisable to send you back there. We shall have to look to the hospitality of either one of your new friends, for the other options become rather complicated. But there is little that can be done now. I simply wished to inform you of this, ah, development. If there is someone you know who would be able to accommodate you, please do not hesitate to inform me."

He took it from his tone that this was a sort of dismissal.

"Thank you, sir." He didn't really know what else to say. He'd been liberated from his oppressors by a single thought, a single sentence. It was like all the good luck he'd missed out on for ten years had all been squashed up and shoved into the space of a few months. He drifted out and towards the Great Hall in a bit of a daze. Just as he reached the Entrance Hall, Ginny ran out at him, carrying the broom he'd left at the table.

"Well?" she demanded.

He didn't meet her eyes, distracted as he was. "I ... I'm not going back to the Dursleys."

He was shocked out of his trance as a firework went off just over his head.

"That's fantastic, Harry!" she dived at him, engulfing him in a huge hug.

As he returned the hug, it began to really sink in, and an almost painful grin stretched his face. _'No more Dursleys. No more Dursleys.'_

"How come?"

"Uh, Dumbledore said something about wards... Apparently I collapsed them. Anyway, yeah, no more Dursleys."

"So where will you be spending your holidays, then? Hogwarts?"

"I don't know yet. He said that he had some ideas, but I should ask my friends if they'll be able to have me, like, as an actual family, because I need a whole new home, not just somewhere to sleep for the holidays." He wasn't sure exactly what he was saying, because he was trying to suggest with his eyes what was going through his mind. He'd only known them for a few months, but he had no doubt that of all the places he could think of, the Weasleys' was the place he wanted to stay.

"I'd like to, Harry, but I have to ask Mum and Dad. And this would be kind of like adoption. You know I can't say anything. But I really would like to." She kissed him softly, pressed the handle of his Nimbus into his hand and dragged him off to practice.

* * *

p align="justify"It was two days later that Ginny tugged on Harry's arm at the breakfast table to say, "Look! It's Errol!"

 ** _'_** ** _Your family owl – does that mean...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _It means you should look out!'_**

Harry covered his face as Errol dive-bombed the table, sending bacon flying everywhere. Ginny giggled, recovering Errol from the serving dish and stroking his wing absently as he lay unconscious on the table, while unfolding the letter he'd brought with her other hand.

 ** _'_** ** _It is good news! They want to come and see you and Dumbledore in a couple of days, so they haven't just shot it down.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _They'll have told Professor Dumbledore, too, right?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Maybe by Floo call...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _The fireplace thing?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah. This is great! It means they want to meet you and get to know you, and stuff...'_** she ended with a contemplative look.

 ** _'_** ** _Or they want to let me down easy.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Hey, don't start...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I'm not starting anything, I just... I don't want to get my hopes up, you know? It feels like everything is going far too well.'_**

Ginny turned to face him fully. **_'What are you saying?'_**

"What in the name of Merlin's rotting...?"

"Ronald!" Hermione interrupted crossly.

"But Hermione, you saw them, too!" Ron complained.

"Saw what?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"You two were just having another one of your bloody staring contests, but it was weird!" Ron said. "It was like your faces were changing and stuff without anyone saying anything. Hermione was just saying she'd be away for Christmas and you two went all odd."

Harry and Ginny shared a look. "What do you mean odd?" Harry ventured.

"I dunno," Ron answered. "But it was like you were having your own private conversation."

They shared a look. "Is that even possible, Ron?" Harry asked.

He shrugged. "Not a clue. But that's what it looked like. It was freaky!"

"Have you read about anything like that, Hermione?" Neville asked from her other side.

"I..." Hermione mumbled, staring off into the distance. The four of them looked at each other and shrugged.

"Hermione? History of Magic class..." Neville said softly, and they all laughed when she jumped and grabbed her bag. She glared back at them.

"It's an important subject... It's about what shaped the world we live in... It..." she muttered.

"Oh, calm down, Hermione. We've still got twenty minutes. It was just a joke!" Harry said.

They finished eating without further reference to Harry and Ginny's connection, for which the two of them were grateful.

* * *

He touched down gently, the grin latched to his face. Ginny and Ron landed next to him, while Hermione and Neville were a little less graceful dismounting their brooms, which drifted lazily away as they picked themselves off the ground for the umpteenth time that day. Malfoy was keeping to the occasional biting comment, and otherwise keeping his distance, so Flying Lessons were becoming pretty enjoyable.

To his credit, Neville had gotten more confident since he started hanging out with Harry and the others. However, he was still only able to drift around at a snail's pace, and at similar altitudes. Hermione was still utterly hopeless though, and her mission in all the lessons so far had simply been to hang on to the broom for dear life and not look down. She didn't seem to have much of a problem with heights. She'd been okay with looking down from the top of the astronomy tower. It just seemed that every time she started rolling to one side on the broom, she panicked and fell off. And she rolled just getting onto the damned thing.

"Here, Hermione," Harry said, retrieving her broom. Madam Hooch had been unable to help Hermione or Neville beyond keeping them airborne for more than a minute at a time, and had requested they meet her at the weekend for extra lessons so as not to hold up the class. "Think of it like riding a bike." He had had opportunity to do so only once in his life, but after Dudley threw it in the duck pond, Lucas hadn't been keen on letting him ride it again.

"How do you mean?" she panted.

"It can feel your fear," Harry replied. "Put a bit of speed into it and believe in yourself. Quit trying to prepare, just let it all happen."

"I was hoping you were going to suggest a good set of stabilizers," she commented, mortified.

"Go on, Hermione," Harry grinned. "Even if you don't believe you can do it, I do."

Hermione looked at him like a deer in headlights, then grasped the proffered broom as tentatively as she might a grenade. Clambering gingerly up onto it, she winced as it dipped slightly under her.

"It can sense your fear," Harry prompted. Somewhere behind him, Parkinson jeered.

Hermione's jaw clenched visibly, and she stretched on the broom, imitating Harry. She lowered herself carefully to the shaft, and then her body flexed just so. The broom, old and battered as it was, fairly streaked off away from him.

She was still fairly reserved. She didn't roll past about thirty degrees, and she didn't turn sharply enough to dodge an oncoming milk float, but she was flying. The blissful, relieved, gobsmacked look on her face said it all.

He heard Ginny, Neville and Ron gathering either side of him. "She's ... flying!" Neville exclaimed.

"Too right," Harry replied happily.

A few minutes later, Hermione had run the course of floating rings they were tasked with passing through for this lesson, and pulled up in front of them. She stared down at the broom open-mouthed, as if still trying to comprehend what had happened.

"Come on, let's go put these brooms away," Ginny said brightly. Hermione looked up at them, beaming, gave the ground a challenging look, then slid herself off.

She ended up on her knees. Still, she picked herself up, dusted herself down, and when she walked with them to where Madam Hooch was gathering them, it was with a new and visible confidence.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," Madam Hooch commended. "There is always something to be said for peer support. Five points to each of you, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter." Harry doubted the look of pleased disbelief would ever leave Hermione's face.

It was a long walk up to Dumbledore's office, but Harry barely noticed, lost as he was in his thoughts. He kept trying to flatten his hair with his free hand, hoping to make a good impression, but he couldn't tame it. Ginny was smirking beside him, but keeping silent even through their link. He'd not noticed them climbing a single staircase when they were suddenly at the gargoyle. Ginny said the password, and the wall behind it split and slid open to the sides. The gargoyle slid back into the opening, glowing momentarily blue as it became one with the stairs, which instantly began to slowly corkscrew upwards. They stepped on together, and Harry prayed to whatever deity would listen.

* * *

"We'll take him in, Albus, and care for him as best we can," Arthur began, making Dumbledore smile. "But don't you think this might be a little much? It won't stay quiet for long, and just the thought of what Skeeter might do with this. . ."

"My daughter would rise to fame as a scarlet woman!" his wife cried.

"Now, I hardly think that would be the case," Dumbledore said calmly. "Should the situation call for such measures, I could always whisper into the right ears to keep her quiet. We would be forced to keep current events under wraps in the near future anyway, since we would need to ward the Burrow quite heavily, simply for the safety of all involved. There are many who still wish Harry harm, and as his guardians, you would face a significant threat from any revenge attacks by remaining Death Eaters."

"Yes, well, we're hardly going to turn him away, but we do want to at least get to know him a little before we take full legal responsibility for him," Arthur replied. Harry's status had nothing to do with the situation. All children deserved a caring home, and Harry especially, considering what Ginny had told them in her letter.

"Ah, come in, Harry, Ginevra." He took a moment to wonder for the umpteenth time how Dumbledore had managed to tell that someone was there. He sure as hell hadn't noticed anything different in the office.

Ginny came in, scowling, followed by a smirking Harry. Arthur had an idea why. She truly hated her given name. It had been her mother who named her. They'd gone with English names for all the boys, but with the first girl in seven generations, a little break from tradition was in order. Italian. Not that Ginny had anything against the nation, but it was yet another symbol of the division put between her and the boys. That was why Arthur did his level best to prevent Molly from admonishing their little girl for her little misdemeanours. It worried him how Ginny might suffer if she was so restrained.

"Hello, Harry," Arthur said with a smile.

Harry smiled back tentatively. He was a fairly small, slim boy, but the scar on his forehead and the quiet fire in his bright emerald eyes marked him as a giant among wizardkind.

* * *

p align="justify""Hello, sir," he replied. He wasn't nervous. Okay, so maybe that was a little off. But he certainly wasn't scared.

"Well, Fred and George weren't lying," Ginny's mother muttered.

"I'm sorry...?" Harry inquired.

"Fred and George told me you were Harry Potter at the platform."

"Oh, yes, I remember," he said, grinning now. He felt somehow satisfied that she remembered. He would certainly remember that day for a very long time. "I'm really very grateful. My whole life has been getting better since then."

"Well, I – I wasn't about to just ignore you..." she gushed.

"I know, ma'am." Her eyebrows rose slightly. "I mean, none of your children that I've met would have abandoned me, even if the twins would have made something of it. You ... you must be good people for them to become the people they are." Ginny squeezed his hand, and as he looked down at her, she gave him a brilliant smile, so that he couldn't resist grinning back.

"Thank you, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, smiling warmly at him.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, Harry, we were wondering if you could tell us a little about yourself?"

"Oh, um, I lived at 4 Privet Drive since I was a year old. And I'm pretty good at flying. There really isn't much else to tell." Ginny nudged him, but he wasn't about to give her parents information that might make them consider him ... subnormal.

 _ **'**_ _ **Harry, I don't care about it, and they won't either,'**_ Ginny mentally chided.

 _ **'**_ _ **How can you know that?'**_ Harry questioned.

 _ **'**_ _ **Harry, you've got to understand! It's them that were evil, not you. What can they possibly think of you?'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **That I'm a freak. That I...'**_ he pressed.

 _ **'**_ _ **Harry, you're not. And this is a fresh start! Unload all this rubbish!'**_

 _ **'Ginny, you're the one that doesn't understand. A normal person doesn't...'**_

 ** _'People don't choose to have arseholes for relatives!'_** Ginny insisted. **_'Look at yourself. You think it's just luck, or fate, that you've got all these friends that care about you? It's because you're a really nice person, Harry, and Mum and Dad'll see that too.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _... Fine. But this is for you, all right?'_**

Ginny smiled at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath before starting again. "I... I lived in the cupboard under the stairs for ten years. My Uncle Vernon hates anything that's not normal. Actually, he hates a lot of things. Aunt Petunia's the same, only she's rarely ... violent." He heard Mrs Weasley gasp, but Ginny squeezed his hand tighter still, and he ploughed on. "Dudley, my cousin, is the same age but he still has trouble counting. Still, he gets anything he asks for, and gets to blame everything he does on me, so..." He stopped there, unwilling to say what he knew Ginny was waiting for.

"You ... lived in a cupboard?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Is there no room?"

"No, I moved into Dudley's second bedroom after the first Hogwarts letter arrived," Harry replied.

"Second?" Mrs Weasley asked incredulously.

"It's where he put all the stuff he didn't care about," Harry clarified. "So the books and the things he broke."

"When you say your aunt was ... rarely violent, what did you mean, Harry?"

Harry began to squirm - this was feeling more and more like an interrogation. Mr. Weasley's kindly, reassuring smile kept him going, though. "Well, she only hit me a few times if I'd burned the cooking or something. She usually just yelled at me. Hitting me seemed to annoy her even more, so she'd yell for ages then."

"And your uncle?"

They were going to judge, Harry knew. Mrs Weasley already thought he was abnormal, he could see it in her face.

"Go on, Harry," Ginny whispered.

 ** _'_** ** _This wasn't what I signed up for! I was just going to meet them, and...'_**

Finding himself incapable of the words, Harry unfastened his robes with shaking fingers. Four pairs of eyes widened in disbelief. He shrugged the clothing off, and took off his tie and shirt, revealing the mess of scars on his chest and back.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?" Mrs Weasley raged.

He shrank behind Ginny, and saw that the twinkle that usually inhabited the Headmaster's eyes was long gone. He nodded solemnly, and the words that came out of Ginny's mother's mouth next were so loud they sort of melted together in Harry's head and became one blinding, deafening, overwhelming sensation that almost had him on his knees. It was like he could feel her anger buffeting him like a gale-force wind. It was sucking the energy out of him, and there was something in it that scared him. **_'Ginny?'_**

"Molly, dear, calm down, please – you're scaring him." Mr. Weasley interrupted her gently.

 ** _'_** ** _Don't worry – she isn't angry at you,'_** Ginny thought comfortingly. **_'It's Dumbledore she's yelling at. I've never seen her this mad... Harry why didn't you tell me it was that bad?'_**

"HE... what?" Mrs Weasley turned at her husband's plea and seemed to sag slightly as she saw Harry hiding behind her daughter. "I'm sorry, dear," she began, her tone much softer and quieter. "I didn't mean to... You see, he was supposed to find a safe place for you to grow up after your parents... And to think that he could allow you to be... abused, like this... I'm sorry."

"It was his cousin, too. Tell them, Harry," Ginny urged.

Harry shook his head violently.

 _Freak!_

"Dudley and his friends used Harry for sport," Ginny explained. "They called it Harry-hunting. Harry didn't tell me anything else, but..."

"Dumbledore, I simply cannot believe that you would allow something like this," Mrs Weasley seethed. She approached Harry slowly, kneeling in front of him. "Take my hand, Harry," she said softly. Her touch was gentle, and Harry allowed himself to be led out of the office. He didn't even notice where they were going until he heard her voice again. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes? Oh, Mol-"

The older looking woman broke off at the sight of Harry, whose robes were hanging unfastened, revealing the scarring to anyone who looked too closely. She drew her wand, and Harry found that he was suddenly glowing in a multitude of colours.

"Here, Mr. Potter, come and sit down."

She gestured to a nearby bed. He sat, and a washcloth and bottle of clear, yellow liquid appeared next to him. She bathed his torso in it, the bottle never seeming to empty. As she finished, Ginny appeared with the rest of his clothes, and Mr. Weasley with her.

"That ought to take the edge off this procedure." She turned and called behind her, "Apprentice Cooper? You'll want to take station outside the infirmary, I'm going to begin ritual four."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said a young, dark-haired woman, who hurried outside the doors.

"I'm sealing the ward." The doors closed, and glowed blue, orange, yellow and black. "I need absolute silence now," she commanded. "These healing trances are tedious things to maintain."

The Weasleys stepped back obediently, while Madam Pomfrey conjured a transparent dome around the two of them. Once it was complete, she closed her eyes in obvious concentration. Harry, long lost in the progression of events, sat quietly as Pomfrey's wand traced around him then along each of his scars. Harry felt himself breathe easier as she worked, muttering under her breath for a while before going silent. Her wand would flick slightly and he'd feel something move inside of him. It was an alarming sensation, only mildly painful but still incredibly wrong somehow. Still, each time she did it he found that a discomfort he had simply gotten used to was washed away.

After a while, she began to glow slightly. White light emanated from her and her wand movements slowed down, sweeping over his whole body and trailing light like aerosol vapours to hang in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. Even as those vapours became so thick as to obscure Harry's view of the infirmary around them, ethereal mist started to pour out of her brown, now glowing orange eyes. He could feel the effects of the ritual on his very bones. It began as a prickling sensation before he felt them growing under her ministrations. Unlike the realignment of his internals, this bit hurt. A lot. But he gritted his teeth and gave Madam Pomfrey the silence she asked for.

He stared down at his chest, watching the skin ripple like a liquid, the scars slowly dissolving into it. The thought striking him, he looked to Ginny, trying to gesture to his forehead with his eyes. She was obscured slightly by the mists, but he saw her shake her head slowly. He supposed that mark would always be a constant in his life. Madam Pomfrey was really shining now. The light coming off her had taken on a slightly cream hue, and was ten times brighter than the mists that now enveloped them entirely. He sat perfectly still, terrified that his melting body would simply fold over itself. Harry looked back into her mystically glowing eyes and, unbeknownst to him, his own began to glow emerald green. A refreshing energy flowed through him, and his muscles felt even freer than before.

A thousand seconds passed, and Harry felt the ritual end. He hadn't noticed it before, but when the link between him and Madam Pomfrey was severed, it was akin to a wound in his mind. The sensation was gone in a matter of seconds though, leaving him only dazed. Blinking the mist out of his eyes, he looked up and frowned. Madam Pomfrey was removing the dome, but she had changed during the ritual.

"No need to look surprised, Potter," she said haughtily. "I'm a qualified and experienced healer, you know. Repairing the tissue damage was a long process, but simple enough. It was the malnourishment that was the hardest to deal with. Bone repair, muscle repair, tendon reinforcement... Nearly every non-vital system needed a re-work." She shook her head in dismay. "Potter, I don't know who's been responsible for you the past few years, but I'd like to have a long chat with them."

"He means well," Mrs Weasley muttered under her breath. "He means well."

"Madam Pomfrey... your hair," he said bemusedly.

She looked at him like he'd declared his undying love of bread crumbs. "What about it, Potter?" she asked patiently.

"There's no grey in it anymore," Harry answered.

"He's right," Mr. Weasley murmured.

It wasn't just the hair that had changed, having gone from quite thin and grey to relatively lustrous and brown. Her face and hands were less wrinkled than before, and if Harry wasn't mistaken she stood slightly taller now than she had.

"Lumia speculare," Madam Pomfrey cast, snapping her wand through a few small gestures.

An insubstantial, slightly transparent mirror appeared, and Harry saw his own reflection in the back of it. He didn't look quite as different as he felt. He felt like he'd just had the most refreshing sleep he could conceive of. It was like being born again.

"Uncanny," Madam Pomfrey said slowly, staring at the mirror. "Healing rituals of all forms take a toll on the caster, they never provide a boon..."

Ginny smirked at him. "Am I still the special one, then, Harry?"

"Always," he grinned.

Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at him. "Charming young boy. Reminds me a little of you, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley chuckled lightly and put an arm around his wife. Madam Pomfrey was busy casting things on herself that made her wand pulse with yellow and green lights. She frowned at the wand, then did whatever she was doing again. A few minutes later, she turned her attention to the door, obviously undoing whatever she'd done to it before. "You may come back in, apprentice," she called. When Apprentice Cooper returned, she was not alone. Professor Dumbledore came in with her. "Ah, Professor Dumbledore. I assume you are here to see Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, thank you Madam Pomfrey," he said. "May I inquire as to why the infirmary was sealed?"

Healer Cooper blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

"I was busy undoing physical damage in Mr. Potter here," Pomfrey said stiffly. "Now, I need to consult with my apprentice and my old master."

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore said.

She turned to Harry. "I want you to relax for the next week, do you hear? You're sound enough to attend classes, but no Quidditch practice, flying, running or anything even remotely strenuous."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied dejectedly. Flying had become a huge part of who he was, and keeping off his Nimbus for more than a day was going to be torture.

Professor Dumbledore pulled out his wand, and created a dome not unlike the one Madam Pomfrey had made, this time encompassing all of them.

"I think you should explain yourself, Professor Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley said sternly, although a lot of her ire seemed to have melted away. Dumbledore simply nodded in response. Ginny moved closer to Harry, and he felt her take his hand.

"I do regret that this happened." Dumbledore sighed, and seemed to age visibly before them. His eyes' twinkle, however, remained. "Harry, there is something you must understand. I left you with your Aunt Petunia because she is your only remaining blood relative. That night, something amazing happened. You see, in the face of Voldemort's terror, your mother sacrificed herself to shield you from him. She took a Killing Curse in the hope that it would spare you. She did it because her love for you was so pure, and so strong, that no price was too great to try and keep you safe. And the strength of that love, the power of that gesture, was so great, it transferred itself to the object of her feelings, fulfilling her wish, and protecting you from harm. It was more powerful than any shielding charm or other protective magic that exists. Your mother lived within you, undying, so that she would always be able to take that blow. The magic lives in your blood, a sort of genetic soul binding. You have your mother's DNA in your body, as does your aunt and her son. The only thing the protection requires is another living being who can maintain that link with you, with whom you share some similar relationship. Petunia's family was the anchor that bound this most unique ward to this existence. When you decided that Privet Drive was no longer your home, the protection was shattered forever."

No one spoke. Harry slid off the bed and onto his knees, bringing Ginny with him, and she embraced him tightly as he kneeled there, his mind reeling, his stomach cold, churning, and his senses in mad disarray.

 ** _'_** ** _Harry... You didn't kill her. It's You-Know-Who's fault. It's him that cast the curse. If she hadn't tried to protect you, he'd still have killed her. He killed anyone who didn't join him, and your mum was Muggleborn. He hated Muggles and Muggleborns, killed loads of them. It had nothing to do with you.'_** Ginny consoled.

 ** _'_** ** _But she was living in me. Dumbledore said she was alive through me as long as I called Privet Drive home!'_** Harry moaned.

 ** _'_** ** _Harry, I don't really know anything about death. But I'm sure that she'd have been proud of you for letting go. I think it would've been wonderful for the last thing she knew to have been that her son was moving on,'_** she tried.

 ** _'_** ** _But I didn't want to lose her!'_**

 ** _'_** ** _You didn't. Harry, you never had her. She was just a shade. You can't blame yourself for what You-Know-Who did. Talk to Susan Bones. She lost all but one of her family to him. She's obviously had to move on. You have to as well.'_**

They stayed in each other's arms for a while, until Harry calmed down. Then, she pulled him to his feet. "I-I..." Harry began, stuttering slightly. "I don't blame you, Professor. And, Mr. Weasley, Mrs Weasley, I know you probably don't want me, now..."

"No, don't be silly Harry, we do want you. We were going to ask if you wanted to spend Christmas with us," Mrs Weasley said gently. "We were going to Romania to visit Charlie – I don't doubt you'll have been told all about him."

He smiled weakly. "Yes... Thank you. I ... I promise I won't be a bother." It was then that Harry first noticed that the ritual had made some very real changes to his body - he was a good two inches taller than before, standing beside Ginny. Where before they had stood nearly eye to eye, there was a clear difference now.

"Why would you be a bother, dear? No, no, don't worry yourself. We'd love to have you. You can stay with us at the Burrow at the holidays, and we'll make the final decisions some other time. But we would love to have you, dear."

Mr. Weasley coughed, and put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Yes, Harry, what do you say? Would you like to spend Christmas with us?"

"I'd love to." He smiled more broadly.

"Well, then, why don't we just sit and get to know each other better?" Mr. Weasley offered.

"I shall take my leave of you then," Dumbledore interjected. "Please, Harry, forgive me. I did only what I thought was best." He removed the dome then, and strode out of the infirmary.

* * *

"So?" Neville prodded. "How did it go?"

"Pretty well, I guess," Harry replied.

"Why wasn't I there?" Ron asked. "They're my parents too."

"I asked them to come, Ron," Ginny answered. "It wasn't a party."

 ** _'I'm really glad you were there, though,'_** Harry projected.

 ** _'As if I would've left you alone,'_** she sent back.

"Don't leave us hanging, Harry," Hermione chided.

"Well, they invited me to stay for the holidays..."

"Brilliant!" Ron grinned. He stood up from the sofa he, Neville and Hermione were sharing to high-five Harry.

"And apparently we're all going to Romania to visit your brother Charlie," Harry added.

Ron blinked at him, grinning madly. "Are you serious?! Hey, Fred! George! Come listen to this!"

"What is it Ronniekins?" Fred jeered.

"You'll be changing that tune soon enough," Ginny smirked. "Go start packing warm clothes you two."

"Why? You're not gonna lock us in a room full of Slytherin birds are you?" George asked.

"Don't even go there," Fred said, shaking his head in dismay.

"Nope," Ron replied. "We're going to be spending Christmas in Romania."

"Romania?" Fred echoed.

"Charlie Romania?"

"Dragons Charlie Romania?"

"

We're spending Christmas with Charlie and his dragons?" George asked.

"You better believe it," Ginny giggled.

"Yeah!" they yelled, pumping their fists into the air in celebration.

"So, will any of you guys be joining us?" George asked.

"Harry is," Ginny replied.

"Ginny, Ginny, the man can answer for himself," Fred chided.

"She already thinks they're married," said George.

Ginny blushed at the comment. "Go suck on a flobberworm," she snapped.

"Ouch," George mocked.

"Quite a mouth on this one," said Fred.

"Does she bite when you're kissing and all?" George laughed.

"Only occasionally," Harry sniggered.

Ginny looked mortified, but the twins were beside themselves.

"Harry!" she cried.

"What?" he asked. "I like it."

"Okay, way too much information," Ron protested, heading for the boys' staircase.

"I like you, Harry, seriously," Fred said through his laughter.

"Well maybe you should bite him, then," Ginny sulked.

"No thanks. I'm sure you've got that covered," George replied.

"Well, this has been entertaining," said Fred.

"But I think we ought to get back to Lee," George finished.

"Catch you guys later," Fred called.

"And don't leave any marks, Gin-gin, Mum'll throw a fit!"

Ginny punched him in the shoulder. "What did you tell them that for?"

"I didn't think you were shy," Harry replied.

"I'm not, but you didn't have to tell them something like that," she complained.

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "You're really cute when you're mad."

She blushed down to her neck.

"And when you blush like that," he added.

"Should I be worried about what you might say next to make me angry?" she asked, twirling her hair around her finger.

"Yes," Harry smirked.

"Oh, it's on," Ginny grinned maliciously.

* * *

They sat in Hagrid's hut, pretending to eat his rock cakes. Ginny had attempted to transfigure one a month before, but it had exploded, and it had taken some hasty excuses to avoid hurting the huge guy's feelings. The main problem was that Hagrid seemed to take the name far too literally. It really would take supernatural power to break one. Harry was busy holding Fang at bay, and then he remembered – how had he forgotten?

"Hagrid, what do you know about the third floor corridor?" he asked.

Neville gasped, Ron gaped, Hermione inhaled sharply and Ginny grabbed his hand. **_'Are you sure this is a good idea?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Nope.'_**

"What?" said Hagrid vaguely.

"Only, there's this enormous three-headed dog we saw a while back," Harry pressed.

Hermione seemed to catch on quickly. "Yeah, and since you're so great with animals, we thought that if it was there on purpose, Dumbledore must have trusted you with it."

Hagrid allowed himself a small smile that wasn't quite hidden by his beard. "Well, yeah... But hang on, how'd you know abou' Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?!" Ron exclaimed. "That thing has a name?"

"Course he does! Won 'im off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. Lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the, uh..." They looked to him expectantly. "Doesn't matter," he muttered to himself, "it's between 'im and Flamel..."

"Aha! There's someone called Flamel involved!" Harry said gleefully.

Ginny slapped his arm. **_'You prat! Now he'll know he told us.'_**

"Shouldn'ta said tha'... You better go. Don' wanna keep yer from yer homework. Go on now." Hagrid quickly added, shooing them to the door.

Hermione opened her mouth as soon as the door shut.

"We know," Neville said with a small smile. "Library."

She scowled at him. "I'd think you would want to find out who this Flamel character is, too."

"Yes, but I couldn't resist."

They sniggered. Hermione huffed, "Well, I'm going to the library. You're free to join me."

"Yeah, alright," they all replied.

* * *

"So where are you going for Christmas, Hermione?" Harry asked. They were outside in the snow, doing what children did best in such conditions – maintaining the essential snow cycle: sky, ground, hand, someone's head, ground... The twins had gone one better, enchanting several snowballs to repeatedly slam into the back of Professor Quirrell's turban. McGonagall took ten points from each of them when she saw, and gave them both a week's detention, but they swore it was worth it to see him 'completely lose his shit'.

He ducked as Seamus's shot at Dean from at least twenty metres away came sailing towards him.

"Oh, we're going to Sweden," Hermione answered. "Mum's tired of not seeing any snow."

"Anyone else going?" He replied, wondering why all the stray snowballs were coming his way and not hers.

"What do you mean?" she asked, making a wild shot at Ginny that ended up flying closer to Neville.

"You know – other family and friends. Cousins and stuff."

"Oh. Well, I have some family in America, but no."

"Oh, okay. See them much?" he asked, jumping and cursing as Ron dumped a load of snow over his head from behind.

"Not really. But we talk a lot."

"What? Are there Floo connections to America?" Ron butted in.

"I don't know, Ron. Why?" she inquired.

"You said you talked to them," Ron replied as if there was some obvious connection.

"Yes, on the telephone," Hermione said, putting her 'I'm-going-to-figure-out-this-problem-an d-you-aren't-leaving-until-I-do' face on.

Harry abandoned them and turned to Neville, not wanting to hear the lecture and the bickering that was bound to follow. As he turned, however, he got a face full of snow. "Argh!" Ginny and Neville were both laughing at him, but he could tell who'd thrown it. Harry chased her through the snow, grinning as she shrieked.

Neville appeared to grow tired of watching them, because the next thing he heard was Hermione's laughter as Ron got completely covered. Harry looked behind him as he ran and saw Neville waving his wand randomly at the snow, which was melting, changing colour, and flying everywhere. Then everything went white. "Oof!"

"Too easy." Ginny'd tripped him! He grabbed her ankles, which was surprising seeing as his face was buried in the snow, and dragged her down with him.

Pinning her to the snow, Harry raised himself above her. "Do you surrender?"

"Never!" she cried, as a barrage of snow threw him off her.

"Why you..."

She ran off giggling madly as he gave chase, trying to get the stubborn flakes out of his ears. "Come on, Harry! You can surely do better!"

"Locomotor Mortis," he whispered. Leg locker jinx. She never saw it coming. He stood, smirking, over her wriggling form on the ground. "Tit for tat."

"Oh, yeah?"

Harry dived out of the way just in time as a snowball the size of his head formed and flew at him. At the next one, he cried, "Flipendo!" in the hope of knocking it back at her, but she just made the thing dodge his spell. "How am I supposed to win?!"

"You aren't!" Ginny answered.

He ran towards her, ducking and weaving to avoid the, well, missiles she was launching at him. She began to crawl backwards, but it was too late. He was on her. Unable to think of anything else to distract her, he pressed his lips to hers. They didn't even notice that the others had stopped fighting. "Okay, that's how," she murmured when they broke apart. He grinned, and would have gone straight back to kissing her without the cough from behind him.

"Yeah, we don't need to see that, Harry."

"No offence, but we'll have nightmares, so..."

He pulled away, grinning at Fred and George, who were standing there with their trunks floating behind them.

"No way, Potter." Ginny grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him back to ground zero, burying his face in the snow.

The twins burst out laughing.

He twisted under her, and threw her backwards, the strength that he was gaining from Oliver's workout sessions shining through.

"Oof," she huffed as she landed. Just as Harry got to his feet, he found himself thrown into the air, and held there. "Beg for mercy," she smirked.

"Oh, don't mind us," George said jovially.

"We're perfectly happy to sit and watch," said Fred.

Harry tugged and strained, but he was completely helpless. A snowball smacked him in the side of the face. Fay, one of the girls in Ginny's dorm, waved cheekily at them. She was the one who was always singing along to her wireless. Not that many people minded – she had a nice voice. He gave her a wry grin in return, only to fall flat back into the snow.

"Hey guys," Fay called. "Going anyplace nice for the winter?"

"We're going to stay at the Romanian Dragon Reserve," George said proudly.

"Oh yeah, Ginny said your brother worked there," said Fay. "That'll be pretty cool."

"Beyond cool," Fred grinned. "What about you? Fay, was it?"

"Yeah, just a family get-together at home, no big deal."

"Fair enough," said George. "I never say no to Mum's Christmas dinner."

"Too right," Fred laughed.

"You alright down there, Harry?" Fay asked, laughing.

"Pffff," Harry spat the snow out. "I will be in a minute." He forced himself to his feet, and leapt at Ginny, who screamed dramatically, hurling snowballs back at him telepathically.

"I'll catch you guys later," Fay laughed. "Have fun!"

"Bye," the twins called after her.

"Not that we want to spoil your fun," George yelled after Harry and Ginny.

"But the last carriage down to the train's going to leave in ten minutes," Fred finished.

"You can't keep that up forever," Harry called to Ginny.

"Watch me," Ginny laughed. In spite of her bravado, she was panting and sweating from her exertions.

"Are we late for the train?" Neville enquired. He, Ron and Hermione had been drawn over by the sound of the twins' yelling.

"If it was up to these two, we would be, but some of us have a sense of responsibility," Fred declared with a Percy-like air. Neville snorted.

"Where are our trunks, though?" Ron looked around.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, what do you leave behind when you walk in snow?"

He shrugged. "My trunk?" They all groaned, and went back the way they came. "What? What is it?" he called as he ran after them.

* * *

The train ride home had been relatively uneventful until about an hour after they left Hogsmeade. Fred and George left them in favour of hanging out with their third year friends, so it was just the five of them in the compartment. After they got tired of exploding snap, Ginny had begun to entertain them by creating a small light show. Percy came in a little while later to check on them, when their compartment door slid open again to admit someone far less welcome.

"So, Potter, you've ditched Muggles for Weasleys, have you? I'm not sure it's so much better..." Malfoy drawled as he entered the compartment.

Malfoy had been even more of a foul prick since the Quidditch match. He'd been trying to get everyone laughing about how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker for the next match. When he realised that no one was laughing because they'd found his ability to stay on the bucking broomstick so impressive, he'd gone right back to his usual taunts.

"Watch yourself, Malfoy." Surprisingly, it was Percy who'd spoken.

"What, Weasley? Hit a nerve, have I? Do you know you're no better than stinking Muggles?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Ron scowled.

"Do you really want to be speaking to a prefect like that?" Percy asked, giving Malfoy a cold stare.

"I'm quaking in my boots," Malfoy sneered. "What'll you do to me, Weasley? Give me detention?"

"Malfoy, what's the point in you coming here?" Hermione asked derisively. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"

"Just doing my duty," Malfoy answered. "I'm reminding this bunch of blood traitors of their place."

Ron got to his feet. "W-what did you just say?" Neville challenged. Harry was pleasantly surprised. Neville had been getting more confident around them, but never in front of a hostile figure before. He was flushed though, and not quite meeting Malfoy's eye.

Ginny's hand, which had been trailing light before, was starting to glow more intensely. Ron had his wand in his hand. Hermione looked confused, which wasn't a healthy state for her, really.

"Longbottom, you really need to get your head checked," Malfoy smirked. "Considering your family's track record, being a half-wit is seriously going to hurt you some day."

Percy and Neville both stood up, but even though Ginny was still seated she was ten times as intimidating. Her hair was swirling in a non-existent breeze as the light from her hands turned an angry red and began to pulse.

"You're outnumbered and overpowered, Malfoy," Ginny said threateningly. "Piss off." Neville looked ready to pop an aneurysm.

Malfoy paid her no heed. "You lot are making a habit of hiding behind the little Weaselette, aren't you?"

Harry made a valiant effort to follow Ginny's example and not simply blow up in Malfoy's face. "And I've noticed that you go nowhere without the two mute bodyguards. They going to step up and speak up or sit down and shut up?"

They looked at Malfoy. "If they want to talk, they'll talk. But I'm sure they don't want to waste their breath."

"No, I'm sure remembering to breathe takes up plenty of their concentration already," Ginny grinned. They shifted uncomfortably, cracking their knuckles and looking to their leader.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Harry warned. "Ron's about ready to introduce you to the floor."

"I'm sure he's quite well acquainted with it by now, of course," Malfoy sneered. "Come, Crabbe, Goyle. Let's go find a cleaner part of the train."

"Track record?" Ron asked the compartment once the Slytherins were gone.

Neville shook his head, still fiercely flushed and staring at his shoes. Percy looked at him for a moment before excusing himself.

"What's his problem?" Hermione asked. "Blood traitor... A bit pathetic if you ask me..."

Nobody answered her, and the train ride was rather tense for the Gryffindors after that.


	5. Pranks, Portkeys & Peruvian Vipertooths

The text seemed to swirl gently within itself like so much oil set into the wallpaper; 'William Arthur Weasley' had once been scorched right into the wall, but the charring around the edges was the only thing to indicate this. The character of the room around him had developed with the character of the previous occupant. The posters of hieroglyphs and pyramids still proudly stood on the opposite wall, panning over texts and landscapes. This place had a strange, tranquil feel to it. The sun was just rising, and its rays peered at him through light curtains. He peered back at them, the inexorable pull of conditioned habit tugging at him to get off his arse and get breakfast ready. The image of Uncle Vernon with his belt came to mind, making him flinch. Yet he sat there, watching, waiting, listening...

Something shifted below.

Harry let out a deep breath and sagged back, sinking away. The soft mattress beneath him was so reassuring.

* * *

George nodded to Fred. His twin diligently sorted through Harry's clothes, which were almost all still in his trunk. At the same time, George cast a Confundus Charm on the half-asleep Harry. Jumbled as his mind now was, Harry was not going to wake any time soon. The miscreant smiled as he weaved the glamour charms over their target, layering them just as the Gambol and Japes' book had said to make them a nightmare to get rid of. Keeping his chanting to a low murmur lest he should run out of breath, George stared intently at Harry's raven locks.

In the meantime, Fred was carefully spreading a fine powder in the clothes he had picked out. It settled in the fabric, and he once again marvelled at the effectiveness of such a simple trick. This stuff was not coming out without a fight, and much of that fighting would be done by the guy who was taking over his little sister's world. They could, of course, have given Harry a good talking-to or something, but actions speak louder than words. And they tend to be a lot more fun. Besides, this would show them what the kid was made of.

They were done within minutes, and were careful to restore everything exactly as it had been. George released the Confundus when they were back outside the room, and whispered with a grin, "Welcome to the family, Potter."

* * *

Yawning, Harry stumbled down the stairs to find that Ron, Ginny and Percy had risen before him. Ron and Ginny offered him broad grins in greeting, and he smiled absently. "Morning," he called to everyone. He felt... strange. Somehow this whole charade was _wrong_ to him, but in spite of the nervous tingle in his stomach he felt so many kinds of content.

"Good morning, Harry," Percy replied, not looking up from his parchment.

"Welcome to the family, Harry," Ron said into his plate, still grinning.

He raised an eyebrow at Ginny, but she simply shrugged at him with an innocent expression. He was slowly learning to be suspicious of that face, but he let it slide.

"Eat as much as you like, Harry, dear, just make sure you don't let Ron at any of it."

"Mum!" Ron cried indignantly.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley." Harry felt rather relieved at Mrs Weasley's jibe. She had seemed a little distant with him since the meeting at Hogwarts. She was forever fussing over him, making sure he ate as much as even Ron did last night. For the first time that he could remember, he was tucked into bed, much to Fred and George's delight. But he detected a tension in her manner that he was sure could only be attributed to one thing. He understood, of course. He only hoped that over the next couple of weeks, she might find him to be at least be a bit more appropriate for her daughter.

"Hermione would be so _proud_ of you, Ron. You talked without food in your mouth," Harry teased. Ron shot him a glare, but it didn't last long as he started sniggering.

 ** _'_** ** _What's so funny?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _No idea.'_**

He squinted sideways at her. She gave him a cutesy, innocent little smile that did nothing at all to reassure him, and just carried on eating.

Mrs Weasley came in a little while later, telling him that Mr. Weasley had left for work about half an hour before he came down. "He isn't usually out quite so early, but he needs to finish up some paperwork before his holiday leave." She turned and saw him, and her hand went to her mouth. "Fred! George! What did you do?!" She hurried over to him, drawing her wand. Harry stared, alarmed, and looked to Ginny, but she just looked at him blankly. There was something funny about her eyes today, he thought. He squinted at her, but she turned quickly away, definitely smirking now.

"Nothing, mum," one of them replied from the stairs.

"Oh, look — seems we've all _rubbed off_ on him!" the other exclaimed with a grin.

After some obviously fruitless attempts at fixing whatever was wrong with him, Mrs Weasley turned back on the twins. "You two! Tell me what you did this instant!" She didn't seem all that angry. In fact, she seemed pretty amused herself.

"It wasn't us mum!"

"Yeah, promise!"

Suddenly, Harry felt a little uneasy. He was starting to get an itch in the seat of his pants. He ignored it, but as Mrs Weasley continued to press the twins for information, Harry began to lose track of what was said.

"Harry, did you wash your hair this morning?" Mrs Weasley asked.

 _'_ _Did I wash my hair? What in the world...?'_ He tried to answer, but the itching was rapidly worsening, and all that came out was a sort of strangled gasp. He finally lost control, and started squirming in his seat.

"Harry!" Ginny shrieked with wide eyes. Even in the state he was in, he could see the amusement in those eyes.

"What did you do?!" Mrs Weasley bellowed, advancing on Fred and George with her wand up. They gulped and paled dramatically.

"Well, we can't really reverse it, mum. The hair and the eyes will fix themselves in about a week."

"I'm not asking about that! Why is he behaving like that?" Sparks jumped from her wand.

Fred smirked ever so slightly, and gave him a challenging look. George deigned to poke the sleeping dragon. "Behaving like what, Mum?" he asked innocently.

Mrs Weasley brought her wand up slowly. Harry's eyes went wide for reasons beyond the growing irritation between his legs. **_'Would she really...?'_** he thought, stunned. "Itching powder, was it? In his trousers, maybe?"

Ginny blinked, her smirk fading. **_'No, no, I doubt it. Not for this, anyway,'_** she replied solemnly. **_'I mean, they're not actually damaging you, are they?'_**

Harry sagged a little in relief. **_'I bloody well hope not!'_**

The smirk flashed back into view on her lips.

The twins hesitated even when Mrs Weasley's wand stopped at eye level, but when sparks hit George in the nose, he started talking. "It wasn't his trousers."

"You're enjoying this!" Harry gasped under his breath. He crossed his legs over and stared at Ginny, defying her to laugh.

She looked at him with a guilty expression that was corrupted by the twitching of her lips. "Yeah," she agreed sadly.

"Harry, get upstairs and change your underwear," Mrs Weasley told him.

He got up in as controlled a manner as he could manage. Biting his lip, he fought down the urge to charge up the stairs. Instead, he slowed as he neared Fred's chair, timing the pass of his hand, and copied a manoeuvre he knew all too well from the receiving end. There was a convenient gap between the back and seat of his chair. Reaching quickly under the heavy jumper, he grasped the waistband of Fred's pants firmly in hand, giving as strong a tug as he could manage.

He grimaced slightly in empathy at Fred's strangled cry, but felt a strange sort of satisfaction all the same.

"None of that now, Harry," Mrs Weasley reprimanded him sternly. "Dealing with this is my job, not yours." Her hard stare almost made him regret it. But not quite. The appraising look George gave him told him that he had passed whatever insane test that had been. He nodded solemnly, and apologized to Mrs Weasley, but not to poor Fred.

Upon reaching his room, he began throwing his clothes to the floor, but soon realised that this wouldn't completely solve the problem. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed a towel and ran to the bathroom. He latched the door, and on turning, saw his reflection. He couldn't help laughing, despite the situation. They'd done a good job. His hair was a bright orange-red, and his eyes were a deep blue colour, but there wasn't a power on earth that could tame his mop. And if they'd been telling the truth, the spell would last till Christmas. He turned on the shower, jumped in and began scrubbing urgently, as the itching had begun to build again.

* * *

"You mean you put it in all of them?!"

Fred and George grimaced, but still nodded.

"Well then," she said with an air of finality. "You caused the problem, so you can fix it. The two of you are going to remove every trace of itching powder from his underwear, and heaven help you if you're sloppy."

They gulped, and nodded. Fred kicked himself a little bit.

"And no magic! I think that in light of what you've done, you can go ahead and wash the dishes for the rest of the holiday too!"

"Yes, Mum."

Mum gave them one last glare. "Unless you've forgotten already, we're trying to make him feel welcome here. Now, all of you finish your breakfast. There's plenty of work to be done now that these two have found themselves their own jobs."

Ron groaned and gave his brothers a dirty look.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Percy told them once their mother was out of earshot.

"Why, Perce?" George asked with a grin.

Fred smirked. "Gonna give us detention when we get back?"

Percy looked up at them scornfully. "Sometimes I wonder if the two of you will ever grow up."

"Yeah, me too," Fred agreed.

"I thought we agreed on that one already, Fred?" George asked with mock-curiosity.

"Oh yeah..." said Fred.

"Not gonna happen," they chorused.

Percy stared incredulously at them for a few seconds. "Have you given any thought at all to why Harry isn't going back to the muggles who raised him? Why he's here in the first place?" Fred and George looked at each other, then back at their brother. "I'm guessing that whatever problems he had there, he's looking for someplace a little more _peaceful_." Ginny examined her brother's measured gaze, wondering whether it was compassion for Harry or passion for order that was making him say this. Maybe it was a bit of both...

"Well, if that's what he wants..." Fred began. He turned to look at George confusedly.

"He's got a point, Fred," George said slowly. "The powder may have been going a bit far, at least in his other pants."

"What do you-" Fred started.

"Look, right now I've got two hunches," George interrupted. "One is that there's something nasty that those muggles did to Harry. Percy's right, people don't find a new family for the new air."

Ginny winced slightly in spite of herself. _'I_ hate _those bloody Dursleys!'_

"Two," he continued, "Ginny knows something we don't."

"And what would make you think a thing like that?" she asked blandly.

"Like I said, just a hunch," he grinned. The grin was quickly replaced by a contemplative frown.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?!"

"Why so aggressive, sister dearest?" Fred asked lightly, still shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Why so pushy?" she retorted nonchalantly.

George leaned in, still wearing that alien expression of seriousness. "Because... if Percy is right, and just this once I don't doubt it, then I reckon Harry needs help."

Ginny swallowed, and bit the inside of her lip. "If Harry does have a story, I'd hope to hear it too, George. Really. But that's his business, not ours."

The twins both gave her funny looks, but thankfully dropped the matter. She didn't like the look she'd seen masking Ron's face. One of envy, and of anger. She would have to watch for that. His insecurities would be a plague if they came out in front of Harry and Hermione too often.

Taking hers and Percy's dishes, she went into the kitchen, and saw that Mum had apparently gone upstairs to help Harry without their noticing. She left the dishes, and wandered out behind the house.

Once she was out of their line of sight, she squeezed her eyes shut, and concentrated on her desire to be just outside Harry's room. Nothing happened for a while, although she felt as if there was a hurricane in her head. After a few seconds, she felt calmer, and tried to focus all her thoughts purely on being right outside that door. There was a very uncomfortable squeezing sensation as she Apparated, and as she landed she fell to her knees, gasping. Manipulating magic in this way was always an exertion, both physically and mentally, but this was the first time it had been so tiring. She hadn't remembered the crushing sensation of Apparating, either. That wasn't much fun.

As she dragged herself to her feet, she found herself suddenly burning hot, with sweat beginning to form all over her body. She took a moment to catch her breath, then knocked on Bill's ... Harry's door.

"Ginny?" he asked nervously.

"Expecting someone else?" she teased.

"Guess not. Come in, then." She pushed the door open slowly. Harry hadn't changed the room in the slightest.

"So, I guess you could sense me?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm sort of getting used to it. Plus, it got kind of easier after..."

"...our first kiss?" she guessed.

"Really? I thought it was a little while after," he replied.

"Well, as soon as you kissed me, I could suddenly _feel_ you there, you know? I mean, not just..." she blushed.

"You mean you could ... feel me without touching?" Harry asked, a little awkwardly.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "But it's weird. It's not at all like feeling you normally, I mean..."

They relapsed into silence, each trying to figure out how to express themselves without causing such embarrassment for each other.

"Is it like ... radar?" Harry asked slowly.

"Radar?"

"You know, the Muggle technology," he explained. "It shows you what's around you on a screen as blinking dots. Well, imagine being in the screen, and feeling that blinking dot, wherever it is."

"I have to take Muggle Studies," Ginny sighed.

"You can take a class about Muggles?"

"Yeah. Bill took it, and so did Percy. Bill took Care of Magical Creatures as well, and Percy took Divination to take as many subjects as possible."

"Wow," he muttered. "When can you take them?"

"Third year."

"That's ages away. You know what? I'll ask your parents if we can go to Gringotts. I'll change some of my money into Muggle cash, and we can go out to... Where's the nearest Muggle city?"

She scrunched up her face, thinking. "Um, I think it's called Exeter."

"Right, we'll go there. I'll show you everything I know," he enthused. Here was a part of the magical world where he wasn't going in blind. You learned surprisingly much about the world when your aunt was pointing out how little you did know. _'And who's old Marge gonna pick on now?'_ he grinned.

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister, matching him in appearance, temperament and attitude towards Harry. So she was big, foul, hated his guts and was perfectly vocal about it. Then there was her enthusiasm for her dogs, which she never had a problem with letting loose on him...

"Mum and Dad won't let us go on our own, you know," Ginny said with a small smile, as she dropped down onto his bed.

"So? We can all go." He sat beside her.

"Yeah, I guess..." she shrugged. "We were talking about something else before..."

Harry grinned and moved to the corner of the room, closing his eyes. Then he span three times on the spot. Ginny stared at him, wondering if he'd suddenly been attacked by the strange creatures that Luna Lovegood from over the hill always talked about. The thought struck her that there might be time to introduce Harry to her. Just then, Harry stopped spinning. His arm shot out to point at her. She blinked, then squinted to see if his eyelashes were fluttering. But his eyes were firmly shut.

"What in Merlin's name?" she gasped. Harry grinned, but kept his eyes shut, and his index finger trained on the centre of her chest. His stupid, lopsided grin... She got off the bed, and his finger followed her. Moving as quietly as she could, which was a skill she'd been polishing for a very long time, she tried to evade his impossible gaze. However, no matter what she did, he was able to keep his finger trained unerringly on her.

"Could you do that?" he asked proudly, still grinning.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, a hint of envy creeping into her voice. "How did you do it?"

"It's the same thing I told you about that morning after the match," he told her. "I can't do it for anyone else, it's just you." She smiled a little to herself at that.

She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, and stretched out her arm. Try as she might, she couldn't narrow down his presence. She just knew he was there, and that was pretty much as far as it went. Scowling, she turned around, and felt the familiar shift as whatever was inside her that did this told her that he was behind her. Turning slowly back towards him, she focused with all her considerable will on that feeling. It shifted, and she worked to align her arm with the origin point of the sensation, gyroscoping herself to compare all angles. Opening her eyes, she grimaced. She had been a little off, and was pointing to a spot just off Harry's shoulder.

"That was pretty close," Harry grinned. "I mean, I did move around a bit."

"Yes, but so did I," Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's so hard. I mean, the way I feel it, it's like you're this massive fuzzy circle!"

Harry looked down at his midriff, frowning. "Do you reckon I should cut back my diet, then?"

Ginny gave him a funny look out of the corner of her eye, until he started sniggering. "Very funny, Harry. But I'm serious, the way I feel you, you could be the size of this room!"

"Well what that little experiment is telling you, Ginny," Harry laughed, "is that _I'm_ the sensitive one here."

"We'll see how bloody sensitive you are!" she cried, tackling him and tickling him into submission.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Hey, Ginny, are you in there?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, she is," Harry gasped. "Come in, Ron."

Ron opened the door, his eyes wide, then he wrinkled his nose. "Ginny, you realise he's not wearing any pants, right?"

She went bright red, jumping off Harry, who was still wheezing on the floor. "What?" she asked.

"Well..." Ron explained, giving her a funny look. "After you went _outside_ , Mum came down with all Harry's underwear for Fred and George to clean."

Ginny stared at Harry, who nodded, turning quite red himself. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked incredulously. "Forget it, never mind."

"Anyway, Mum wanted you to come feed the chickens," Ron said. "By the way, did you just Apparate _again_?"

"Surprised?" Ginny asked, hands on hips.

"Just a little," Ron agreed. "I mean, it's a bit mad, isn't it? The first time was ridiculous, but now you're doing it on purpose, without a wand, and without having learned it in the first place..."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask for this Ron," Ginny said bluntly. "And besides, if you'd paid any attention to Mum before Hogwarts, you wouldn't be surprised in the first place."

Ron stared at her blankly for a minute.

"How about just the last blood Weasley girl? Catherine Elizabeth? Seven generations ago and seventh child?" she prodded.

His expression cleared, and his jaw dropped slightly. "Mum never made a big deal out of it, though. I mean, I thought she didn't expect anything..."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something here?" Harry asked, having recovered.

"Harry, heritage is important in the Wizarding world, no matter how people look at it," Ginny explained. "I mean, just because we know there's no difference between Purebloods, Half-bloods and Muggle-born as people and sorcerers, we still value our family history. Before we came to Hogwarts, Mum taught us our family tree back to the sixteenth century. There's been a Weasley daughter every seven generations for as long as we can know. Each of them has been special in some way. And when that daughter is the seventh child, they've always had an even greater gift or gifts than with the others. Catherine Elizabeth Weasley was born in 1834 with the ability to drain both life and magical energies by contact."

"Wow..." Harry murmured. He didn't really know what she was on about, but didn't want to spoil the mood. "What happened to her?"

"She found out she had it at school," Ginny explained. "Ernest Flint had been having a go at her older brother over his new broom after a Quidditch game, and in the end Flint took the broom by force and used it to knock Samuel out. She walked up behind Flint and put her hands around his neck. Ten seconds later, he's a squib, and she's healing and reviving her brother without aid of her wand. Back then, the Weasleys were still powerful enough to protect her, but she lived a pretty secluded life after that out of fear of losing control again."

"But she did, didn't she?" Harry prodded.

Ginny nodded sadly. "That had been in her first year. By her fourth, her father was being told to set her up for becoming the first female Auror."

"Auror?" Harry inquired.

"Dark wizard catchers!" Ron enthused. "They're bloody brilliant!"

"Yeah, I can see why they'd want her," Harry said.

Ginny smiled grimly. "Obviously, her dad gave in, and Catherine took the right subjects. She became their greatest assassin. Mum didn't give us any real details on her life after that, but Bill found out that she was killed in action when she was 32."

Harry winced. "That's really rough. I guess it makes sense though," he said softly. "Your abilities, I mean."

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Ginny said. "I..."

"Hold up a second, I've just had a thought... Look, if there's a Muggle Studies class, and Pureblood families teach their children about their history, then Purebloods have all their bases covered, right?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah..." Her eyes widened then in understanding.

"So who's teaching the Muggle-raised about wizard stuff?" Harry asked, looking up at Ron.

"Don't look at me, mate," he shrugged. "I just thought you got an extra book on your list or something, I guess. Actually, I never really thought about it at all..."

"Well, there's a surprise," Ginny grinned. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Harry. Let's go ask Mum."

Ron stopped Harry at the door, letting Ginny go ahead. "If you want my advice mate, grab a belt. I reckon we'll be de-gnoming the garden, and if one of them, you know..."

"You think I'll get debagged by a gnome?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "They don't even move!"

"Maybe not the muggle ones..." Ron replied.

Armed with a belt, Harry met up with the others in the kitchen.

"Harry, sit down and finish your breakfast," Mrs Weasley told him. "You can join the boys afterwards if you want. De-gnoming is a regular event here, so you may want to learn."

"Pardon me, Mrs Weasley, but speaking of learning..." Harry began. "I was wondering, well, we were talking, me, Ron and Ginny, about, well..."

Ginny took pity on him and took over. "We were talking about what Purebloods learn before sorcery school, and how the muggleborns don't get the same benefits."

"Oh?" Mrs Weasley smiled. "Well, yes, I think it's left up to the students, really. I mean, I don't believe the Muggle Studies course covers the kind of education that muggle-born students get before magical schooling either."

"I guess," Harry agreed. "But I was hoping that maybe ... if you could...?"

"If I'd teach you some of what I taught Ron and Ginny?" Mrs Weasley suggested.

Harry nodded shyly. He had felt so embarrassed to know nothing about the magical world when wizards knew more about him than he did.

"Well of course, dear, I'm sure we can find the time."

"Thank you," said Harry gratefully.

She seemed to consider for a moment, staring at the family clock. It was a rather peculiar clock, for it did not tell the time at all. It didn't even have the standard two or three hands. Instead, nine hands represented every member of the Weasley family, with little magical photos of each of them smiling out from the ends of each hand. All but Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie were pointing to 'at home', all of whom were 'at work'.

"... Maybe we can start this evening, Harry," said Mrs Weasley.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"Don't mention it, dear," she replied with a kindly smile. "Now, eat up. Ron? Percy? You two go out and get started with those gnomes."

Harry wolfed down the rest of his breakfast, grinning back at Fred and George as he left his plate and cutlery in the sink. He grabbed his trainers from beside the door, and sprinted out to find Ron and Percy.

The Burrow, home of the Devonshire Weasleys, was an odd looking place. It had neither the mechanical orderliness and cleanliness of Privet Drive, nor the grandeur and beauty of Hogwarts Castle. Rather, it seemed as though the Weasleys had taken a small farmhouse out of the way of the muggle village and added floors as they were needed. The task must have been undertaken by the Weasleys, too, for he doubted that any muggle architect could get a building constructed in so haphazard a manner to stand. But he had found that this crazy, isolated house had a cosy, homely feel that was affecting him even mere hours after he'd arrived.

One similarity to Hogwarts was the feeling of isolation. The rolling hills and thick woods all around them obstructed any nearby settlements, and gave the impression that they were completely alone. Closer to the actual building were the garage and outhouse.

As he walked over to the garage, he saw that it was periodically spawning chickens. Harry found on closer inspection that they were actually coming from a coop on the far side, but he didn't know what to expect these days. Drawn in by curiosity, Harry peeked inside.

The first thing he noticed was the blue Ford Anglia in front of him. Harry vaguely recalled Uncle Vernon mentioning that his own father had driven an Anglia, back when Vernon got an Escort as a company car about five years ago. So the car was pretty damn old. It certainly looked old, like something out of the 50s. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why a wizard would take a car like this. It wasn't nearly big enough for the family, and being so old it could only draw more attention. They may as well have gotten a Porsche.

The keys were in the ignition.

Harry stared at them. There probably wasn't a significant threat of theft here, but still... Then he turned to look around at the rest of the place. It appeared to be a workshop of sorts for Mr. Weasley. Everywhere he looked there were muggle items in varying states of undress. A hairdryer had its innards strewn all over a tabletop, revealing a lot of coiling metal wire. A light bulb sat next to it, cut open with surgical precision, followed by an electric kettle with the upper housing removed to reveal the element. On closer inspection, Harry found a little white book to the side of that table, open to a page entitled 'electric kettles'. Mr. Weasley had written 'seems to use twisted metal tube to produce heat', and 'possibly similar to light bulb and hair dryer'.

Curious, Harry flipped through the book and found it to be full of seemingly random items which were apparently alien to wizards. He couldn't decide whether to be horrified or amused when the page for 'spray can' said 'use shielding and containment charms at all times'. When he eventually found the page for electricity, he found it entirely devoid of insight, which was annoying really. He already knew about pylons and the national grid, and that batteries could supply electricity. Hermione would know all about it, but as brilliant as the girl was, she really could go on a bit.

 _Ginny's coming._

Harry turned just in time to see her poke her head in.

"You're not degnoming," she said, a sly smile pulling at her lips.

"You aren't feeding the chickens," Harry threw back.

"Pff, they're eating," Ginny said dismissively. "I see you've found Dad's workshop."

"Has he spent a lot of time on this?" Harry asked.

"Let me put it this way," Ginny grinned, sauntering over. "I don't remember him _ever_ not rushing down here on days off to mess around with this stuff."

She gave the Anglia a push, and it rocked visibly on its suspension.

"You should have seen this six months ago," she said. "I had no idea there was so much stuff inside these things."

"Seems like a pretty big thing for your dad to be figuring out," said Harry. Considering that he was simultaneously reverse engineering light bulbs, working on a car seemed like putting the cart before the horse.

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "He can drive it, sort of," she told him. "He ran out of petrol though. It is petrol, right?"

"Yep," Harry agreed. "What do you mean by sort of drive it?"

"Well, when he does it it isn't smooth like cars in the village," Ginny explained.

"It takes muggles a while to learn," said Harry brightly. "I'm sure he'll get there."

"Hey, there's a friend of mine that lives near here," said Ginny. "Luna. She'll be coming to Hogwarts next year. You want to come meet her later?"

"Sure," said Harry. "What's she like?"

"Expecting a monster?" Ginny teased.

"Knowing you, I wouldn't know what to expect," Harry grinned.

"Hey!" Ginny cried indignantly, though she was grinning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you'd probably make friends with a tree if we left you long enough," Harry laughed.

"Ooh, I'd love to meet an ent," said Ginny.

"Huh?" said Harry. "I thought they were just in..."

"No," Ginny interrupted. "They're really only legends here, but back in the days when Hogwarts was founded there were supposed to be walking, talking trees in all of the world's forests."

"No way," Harry breathed.

"Pretty cool, right?" Ginny grinned.

"Well, I'm sure Luna's really nice," said Harry. "I should probably go do some degnoming."

"Yeah," she laughed. "I'm sure Ron's suffered enough."

Leaving Ginny in the garage, he looked around in search of Ron and Percy. They weren't too far away, and they were throwing beige-coloured objects every now and again. When he got closer, he recognised that the objects were vaguely humanoid. When he was close enough that Ron noticed him, he realised that the things were highly animated, and appeared to be reacting violently to their human opponents. He checked his belt reflexively, and noted that the other two were just wearing robes.

"Hey guys," Harry called.

"Hello, Harry," Percy replied. "I understand you haven't done this before. You should be able to simply follow my lead - there isn't much depth or complexity to the task, sadly. It is only menial labour, but it must be done of course."

"Uh, thanks, Percy," Harry responded, a little bewildered. Turning to Ron, he whispered, "I thought he was only like that on Prefect duty..."

Ron winced. "Nah, it's gotten worse since he made Prefect though. He just reckons he's better than all of us. But Fred and George bring him back down often enough." Ron grinned.

Harry smiled back uncertainly. He wasn't entirely sure that pranks were the best way of going about it. Just then, he got a sharp pain in his ankle, and got his first good look at one of the gnomes. They looked rather like stout little potato heads, and apparently had quite strong jaws. Strangely, the gnome's teeth didn't seem to pierce his skin, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt.

Ron hurled his gnome high over the hedge at the end of the garden. "They're real bloody pests, they are," he grunted in sympathy. "Dad's too soft on them, thinks they're cute or something, so they just wander right the way back. Should hit em with a good few hexes."

He wrenched the little bugger off his leg, and copied what Ron and Percy were doing: he hurled the thing as hard as he could away from the house. He glared after it, the sudden reunion with pain having caught him off guard. And as he glared, it kept going. In fact, it appeared to be going faster.

"Um, Harry?" Ron asked uncertainly. As soon as Harry's attention was diverted, the gnome plummeted. They both stared after it, then looked at each other and shrugged.

"Ronald, Harry, you are needed," Percy prodded, flinging a gnome with practiced ease while trying to keep the other ones at bay.

Harry snatched one, spinning on the spot before flinging it away like a hammer. "They don't get hurt, do they?" he asked guiltily, suddenly realising how easily he'd been drawn into such a violent act.

"Nah, they just get a bit dizzy," Ron replied. "You can't do much that'll hurt them without using magic."

Harry soon got into a contest with Ron over who could throw the furthest. Harry was winning by a significant distance, even if the mysterious accelerating gnome was ignored. There was an almost endless supply of ammunition as the witless gnomes came out of their holes to see what was going on — it was half an hour later when Ron slung the final gnome over the hedges. When they went back inside, three mugs of cool pumpkin juice were waiting for them. If this was what chores were like here then Harry wouldn't mind getting used to it.

* * *

"So no-one knows where my family came from?" Harry frowned.

"Harry, you come from a very old magical family," Mrs Weasley explained. "Old enough, in fact, that no one's quite sure where to trace it to." She flicked back a few pages of the reference book she'd brought. They sat side by side at the kitchen table, where Mrs Weasley could keep an eye on dinner. "The earliest date we have for a Potter is in the thirteenth century. But we are fairly sure that the line was descended from Avitorius Potter. Not long after Hogwarts was founded, Avitorius Potter was engaged in an open duel with Godric Gryffindor..."

Harry's eyes snapped up to stare.

"... and was defeated after a long, drawn out fight. He was called Scarface for the injuries he suffered at Gryffindor's sword."

"Why were they fighting?" Harry asked. _'My ancestor, and the founder who heads my house... But the Sorting Hat didn't want me in Gryffindor...'_

Mrs Weasley shrugged slightly. "There's nothing more in here." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He twitched at the feeling. It was strange... alien. And for the first time in a while, he felt a jolt of fear. He inhaled sharply, feeling a burning in his skin. It was a familiar feeling - one that he got every time his uncle had beaten him. He struggled to lock away the memories. He didn't want to remember. But the feeling didn't fade so easily. That strange warmth which dulled pain and had allowed him to cope with his unbearable existence every time he had lain defeated in his cupboard and prayed for an end to come. He frowned as it finally faded, and unbeknownst to him it was for the final time. As it departed him it left behind a sense of relief so great that he let out all his breath reflexively. He was so distracted by it that he nearly missed what Mrs Weasley said next.

"I wouldn't worry about it dear," Mrs Weasley said tenderly. "The Potters are rather like the Weasleys, in that almost every Potter has been in Gryffindor House. It's likely that Gryffindor simply felt responsible for the actions of his student, and things may have... gotten out of hand."

"You mean he duelled Gryffindor while he was still in school?" Harry asked astounded.

"Well I can't say for sure," she said, frowning. She flicked back a page and laid the heavy book open on the table in front of them. "All it says is that he was a young man at the time."

Harry looked over the delicate script closely, but could find nothing more hidden in the dark swirls and dashes. In fact, he struggled to find anything at all, for this version of the English language was so old as to be nigh on unrecognisable.

"Harry, your family is old, wealthy and powerful," Mrs Weasley said. He looked at her questioningly. "Harry, you are still too young to fully appreciate what this means, but in your life, you will have no shortage of friends, wherever you may find them."

 _'And no shortage of idiots either,'_ Harry thought, picturing Malfoy's face. "Um, thank you, Mrs Weasley," he replied.

"Your family has produced more warriors and men of learning than nearly every other wizarding family in Britain," she continued. "A lot will be expected of you, but remember this, Harry. Never ever let the expectations of others rule your life. If someone truly cares about you, then they'll be more interested in you being happy, and the others are not worth caring about."

Harry averted his eyes at the compassionate sentiment. "I..."

"Harry, you're safe now. You don't have to be afraid anymore," Mrs Weasley continued gently.

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded. Fear wasn't high on his list of priorities, and hadn't been for a while now.

She smiled, and Harry's shoulders relaxed. "Now, in 1283 Stephanus Potter wedded Mildryd of Luncaester, a Slytherin..." Harry blinked, and he could have sworn that her lips twitched as she turned to look at him. "Come now, Harry. You must have realised by now that not all Slytherins are monsters."

He had to admit that she had a point. Apart from Malfoy and his goons, and Parkinson and her friends, the handful of other Slytherins weren't complete retards. "I guess..."

"Good," Mrs Weasley beamed. "Now, they had four children, of whom two played significant roles. The eldest son, Nicholas, went on to be a steward of Hogwarts, and held a position on the Wizard's Council."

"And the Wizard's Council was what was there before the Ministry of Magic?"

"That's right, Harry," she smiled.

"But what was the steward of Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Well, Hogwarts's steward was a sort of guardian and manager," she said. "As a guardian, the steward would take care of the protection and defence of the castle. As a manager, he would manage the school's finances and advise the Headmaster. Of course, the job is still there, but no one has taken it in nearly three centuries, so the duties have been taken up by the Board of Governors, Headmaster and the Deputy Headmaster. It's said that the suits of armour in the castle each hold a bit of a previous steward, and that they answer the call of any worthy witch or wizard who takes up the title."

"Woah," Harry breathed. "Does that mean we could talk to them?"

"I don't think so, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley frowned. "If you could, I'm sure someone would have done so already."

"Okay. What about the others?"

"Other children, you mean?" said Mrs Weasley. "Well the next child was another boy - Thurismund. He was said to be six feet tall, and owned a longsword forged in a dragon's breath. It was said to burn eternally, even when on his back, but would never hurt him. Nobody knows what happened to him."

"I'm afraid that all I know of the other two, Brunhild and Alanus, are their names," Mrs Weasley said sadly. "Perhaps they simply didn't do anything of note."

"So how big is my family tree, exactly?" said Harry.

"Well, there are gaps," said Mrs Weasley. "There usually are. But I'm afraid that yours wouldn't be especially wide. The Potters have always been on the front lines of wizarding wars. Houses such as the Weasleys have many secondary bloodlines in England. There are other Weasleys in Kent, Yorkshire, Leicestershire and Montgomeryshire in Wales. Some houses, like the Malfoys, are spread throughout the world."

"But I'm the only Potter left," said Harry forlornly.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Mrs Weasley crooned, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "But they died heroes. I know that's no consolation, but try to find some comfort in it. Please try, Harry."

* * *

"I'll race you!"

Ginny sprinted ahead, her bright hair streaming out behind her as she shot up the hillside.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Harry cried, hastening to catch up. If there was one thing he knew he could do on solid ground, though, it was run. And he did not get tired.

The gradient of the hill was fairly forgiving, but the grass was wet and didn't offer a great deal of grip. Ginny slipped slightly, but even as Harry moved to catch her, she kicked and scrambled onwards, leaving him once again to chase her. He did at that, and caught up to her around halfway up the hill.

"You're faster ... than I thought," he puffed.

"It's ... easier ... without ... the ... snow," she replied.

Harry tried to go easy on her, noticing how tired she seemed, but she was having none of it. Grinning at him, she warped slightly in his vision, almost as if she were Apparating. Rather than disappearing entirely though, she sort of stretched forwards slightly, teleporting in small jumps that accelerated her far beyond anything she should have been capable of. As she jumped, she left behind areas of darkness, like her partially-Apparated self was still casting a shadow. These, unlike most magical residue Harry had seen before, drained into themselves rather than evaporating, retreating from their surroundings rather than fading away into them.

Panting with effort, Harry dug deep and pushed to catch up with her. That wasn't so hard. It seemed that even the small jumps tired her out, for she only managed seven or eight before she was back to normal running. By then, they were cresting the rise. They skidded to a halt, and collapsed at the top of the hill.

"I almost had you," said Ginny. She was exhausted, panting like a dog and down on the ground, but she looked as though she were on cloud nine.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, sitting down next to her. "Next time I'll go harder on you."

Ginny laughed, but the laughter quickly became coughing and she rolled onto her back. Harry wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and it came away glistening with perspiration. He really had been working hard.

"Is that her house?" Harry asked.

"The one and only," Ginny chuckled.

He had to agree with her. Luna's home was certainly unique — tall and cylindrical like some sort of watchtower as opposed to a house. The Sunday morning sun shone at them from just over the roof, or rather the battlements, turning the building black.

"She's a little bit odd," Ginny said hesitantly.

"Well, that's nothing new," said Harry. Truth be told, 'odd' wasn't a strong enough word to describe the rollercoaster he'd been taken on in the past few months.

"Hey!" Ginny cried indignantly.

Harry turned to look at her, and saw that she was still flushed from her exertions. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she wiped it away, slick and darkened.

"Oh, wait..." she said. "You meant learning about magic and everything, didn't you?"

"What did you think I meant?" Harry grinned.

"Pff, get lost," she retorted.

They ambled down the hill at a more sedate pace, and halfway down noticed a slight figure with long blonde hair coming towards them.

"Hey Luna!" Ginny shouted. The girl waved back, and Ginny ran to meet her.

As the two girls embraced, however, Harry got his first clue about how Luna was 'odd'. She stared at him the entire time. He found that he couldn't avert his eyes from her silvery blue ones, which had a protuberance to them that stopped just short of disturbing.

"Hello Harry Potter," she said. Her voice was light, with an almost melodic quality. "Did you not bring your horse?"

"Um..." said Harry, bemused.

"Shh, Luna," Ginny hissed, blushing.

"I'm sorry," said Luna. "Ginny always said..."

"So, how've you been?" Ginny interrupted hastily. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Well, Daddy's been out for the weekend looking for crumple-horned snorkacks," Luna told her. Luna was giving Harry an impression of perpetual distraction, as if her mind were in two places at the same time. Her tone of voice changed only subtly depending on what she was saying, almost making her seem impassive in comparison to Ginny, who made it pretty damn clear how she was feeling. "He should be back soon..."

She turned and started heading back towards the house. Ginny spared him a moment to gesture that he should follow, before returning to Luna's side. Luna was taller than Ginny, but then again who wasn't? She was probably a little bit taller than Harry too, with her dirty blonde hair reaching halfway down her back. He noticed that she had a lot of bounce to her step, so much so that she seemed almost to be skipping. The strange thing was, she seemed to be wearing a necklace of corks.

"Has he had much luck?" Ginny asked.

"No," Luna said. "But he's hopeful. Tell me about Hogwarts. You won't rest until you do."

"I thought you'd want to hear about it," Ginny sulked.

"Of course I do," said Luna. "I was only pointing out the obvious."

Ginny stuck her tongue out, but regaled her with her adventures to date anyway. Apparently she'd had a couple that involved neither him and Ron or Hermione. Still, she didn't mention the troll. It was funny how nobody ever brought up the troll.

The first thing Harry noticed about the Lovegood home was the front gate. By itself it was rather ordinary, if a little bit worse for wear. It was the signs which had been affixed to it that drew his eye. The first read, 'THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD'; the second one said 'PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE', while the third said, 'KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS'. Ginny was still talking Luna's head off though, so he stored his questions away for later.

The house itself seemed to be entirely made up of single room floors, each room being perfectly circular, with a circular stairwell going all the way to the top through the middle. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen that would have deeply offended Aunt Petunia. Not only was everything rounded to fit the round room, but in the ultimate statement of non-conformity, the room was brightly coloured and decorated with flora and fauna apparently painted by Luna herself.

"... I reckon we should check out the Forbidden Forest next term. Right, Harry?"

"Yeah, sure," said Harry. "If anything attacks us, you can just set it on fire."

The grin on Ginny's face was almost feral.

"Would you like something to drink?" Luna asked. "Gillywater? Gurdyroot tea?"

"We'll have gillywater, please, Luna," said Ginny quickly. Harry was about to protest that he could speak for himself when Ginny turned to him and drew a finger discreetly across her throat.

"Have you two known each other for a long time?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Ginny enthused. "We were ... five?"

"Ginny came running over the hill," said Luna. "I'm sure she'd been up to some mischief."

"I'm allowed to run around like anyone else!" Ginny protested.

Luna turned from mixing their gillywaters, which actually looked vaguely familiar to Harry. Perhaps he'd seen someone else drinking one at Hogwarts. He tended to stick to pumpkin juice. As it was, the liquid was a slightly cloudy, off-white mixture, reminiscent of ginger beer but for the flowers floating on it. Luna's expression had not changed, and Harry was beginning to doubt that it ever would.

Ginny's indignant frown turned into a pout. "Fine," she said dejectedly. "I'd just hidden Mum's wand. It was a revenge attack, okay?"

"On your mum?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Don't be stupid," Ginny laughed. "Nobody messes with Mum. Or Dad. Well, the twins mess with them a little, but it doesn't go well for them very often. No, I meant Fred and George, of _course_!"

"Some day, you're going to make peace with your brothers," Luna said. Harry thought she was smirking, but the harder he looked, the less certain he was.

"Sure," Ginny replied. Her smirk was clear as day. "But until then they're going to _suffer_."

"See, if Ron says something like that it's funny," said Harry carefully. "When you do, it's scary."

"Best not to get on my bad side, then," Ginny said, winking at him. "Thanks, Luna."

Harry accepted the gillywater with a polite thank you, and looked to Ginny for cues. She just drank hers like it was fruit juice, so Harry followed suit. That was a bad idea. The spicy drink scalded the back of his throat, and he coughed reflexively. Most of it spread out in a fine mist in front of him, but he was unfortunate enough to find some of it in his nose, making him snort like a horse as it burned its way to his nostrils. Ginny, of course, was beside herself.

"I'm sorry, Harry Potter," Luna said absently. "I should have warned you. I make it quite strong."

"You ... don't ... say," Harry wheezed.

It took him a few seconds to recover, but even then he could feel an awkward tickling sensation above his palate. Gillywater was trickling slowly out of his nostrils. Ginny wasn't quite done yet, though, and looked quite close to spilling her own drink, or what was left of it.

"Sorry about the mess," said Harry forlornly.

"Don't worry, Harry Potter," said Luna. "Daddy will clean it up in two seconds when he gets back. I would try just a sip this time, if I were you."

"But it came out of your _nose_!" Ginny howled.

Harry and Luna looked at each other, and he noticed her expression twitch. It was just the barest hint of amusement, but compared to her prior placidity it was like she was laughing as exuberantly as Ginny was.

He tried again with the gillywater, more slowly this time. It wasn't especially different to ginger beer in taste either. That wasn't a bad thing, really, but he'd probably keep to pumpkin juice anyway. It had never tried to murder him, after all.

"It's good, Luna, thanks," Harry said softly, trying not to further aggravate his throat. Her absent-minded smile widened briefly.

"You are welcome, Harry Potter," said Luna. She then turned to Ginny, who was still laughing. "Would you like me to check you for wrackspurts, Ginny?"

"I'm ... good, thanks Luna," Ginny panted. "Gosh, Harry you should've seen yourself!"

"Wrackspurts?" Harry asked.

"They fly in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," Luna explained. "I wear these dirigible plum shaped earrings to help keep them away, but they still get in sometimes."

She brushed her hair aside to reveal a very peculiar looking earring.

"Oh," said Harry. He couldn't really think of anything else to add.

They talked for a while about muggle primary school, which Luna was apparently enjoying slightly more than Harry had. She was just getting up to fetch a painting they'd convinced her to show them when they heard the front door open.

"I'm back, Moonbeam!"

Mr. Lovegood was a very distinctive man. Between his unique clothing and his air of exuberance, Harry doubted anyone ever had trouble finding him in a crowd. His hair was shoulder length, a paler blonde than his daughter's and seemed fluffy and light. It was as if his head had been covered in yellow candy floss. He offered Ginny a warm smile, but turned confused brown eyes on Harry. Harry got to his feet, feeling a little bit antsy as another, unpredictable unknown was introduced to his day.

"Welcome home, daddy," Luna smiled, drifting over to him from the stairs.

After they had embraced, Mr. Lovegood held his daughter at arms' length. "Now, Luna, are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Oh." Luna gazed blandly at Harry, tilting her head slightly, considering him. "This is Harry Potter. He's a friend of Ginny's. Harry Potter, this is my dad."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, offering the man his hand.

"Polite," Mr. Lovegood said appreciatively, shaking his offered hand vigorously. "I wondered if I might meet you before Minister Fudge turned on you. An army of heliopaths is no laughing matter."

Harry blinked, and Mr. Lovegood had already moved on.

"It has been a while since you were last here, Ginny," he said. "How have you been keeping?"

"Really good, thanks Mr. Lovegood," Ginny grinned. "How are you?"

"Well, I would be happier if I had found a snorkack," Mr. Lovegood lamented. "Still, the chase shall continue. Tell me, where have you been all this time my dear girl?"

"Hogwarts," Ginny replied impishly.

"Hogwarts?" Mr. Lovegood smiled eagerly. "There is a story here, isn't there? Come now, tell me all about it."

"You have a darkness in you," said Luna, softly into his ear.

Harry jumped about a foot in the air.

"What?" he whispered back.

She stared at him, not meeting his eyes — she was staring at his scar. Then again, she hardly ever seemed to blink.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"I..." Now that she mentioned it, it had been hurting recently. The pain had dropped off since he left Hogwarts, though. Was it something to do with whatever was under the trapdoor? He doubted it was valuable for giving people headaches, but...

"Hmm..." Luna almost seemed to forget he was there, and just stared at his scar for a while.

Harry looked over her shoulder at Ginny. She looked so happy discussing her time at Hogwarts with Mr. Lovegood. She'd seen more of the castle than he had if her earlier stories were to be believed. He wanted to feel hurt that she'd been going exploring without him, but he knew he'd had precious little time lately with homework and quidditch practice. The heavily enforced curfew meant that they had little to no chance of getting around at night. They didn't know the castle well enough to evade the teachers and prefects, and ironically enough, once they did there would be far less reason to do it.

Ginny glanced over at him, and he flashed her a smile.

"That's nice," said Luna.

"Huh?" Harry replied.

"It doesn't matter," said Luna, finally returning her eyes to his own. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Um, okay," Harry said hesitantly. "Are you looking forward to next year?"

"Well of course," Luna said. He supposed that the ability to make guys feel stupid was something that girls were just born with. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

"What about women?" Harry asked.

Luna laughed suddenly, and when she spoke then her voice had none of its earlier, dreamy quality. "The ability to steal men's treasure."

"I'm sorry?" Harry frowned. He'd only been joking.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," she said, returning to her normal voice. "Daddy told me that once."

"So I suppose you're hoping for Ravenclaw then?" said Harry. The 'wit beyond measure' thing was the Ravenclaw motto. At least, he thought it was. Gryffindor's was 'the last enemy that shall be conquered is death, but the first must be fear'. At least, that's what Percy told them the Latin stuff over the entryway read. As far as he knew it was a reminder to take your shoes off in the common room. He did if they got a seat near the fire...

"Oh no, I'm not hoping for it," she said simply. "I wonder if Ginny will be in your year or mine."

"How would she stay in my year?" Harry asked. "She hasn't..."

"Yes, she does read a lot," said Luna. "She always has, but usually she likes novels."

"How does she get so much done in so little time?" He'd intended the comment to be admiring, but it came out half-despairing.

"She does have an abnormal amount of energy," Luna agreed. "I have a slight suspicion that she's some sort of pixie changeling. She has the mischievous disposition. But she also has a lot of focus and passion. If she wants something she doesn't give up on it. She got you, and that was always her least likely wish."

Harry felt a bit lost by the end of that, but one thing stood out. "Has she really had a crush on me for that long?"

"As long as I can remember," Luna admitted.

"But she hadn't met me!" Harry protested quietly.

"I did mention that to her," Luna said. "She didn't fancy you, though, she fancied Harry Potter."

"Yeah, the guy whose scar everyone wants to bloody stare at," Harry scowled.

"She really does care about you, though," said Luna.

"Why's that?" Harry frowned.

"I can't tell you," said Luna with an air of finality. "But I know. And so do you."

Harry looked back at Ginny. There were times when she looked at him and he thought she was seeing someone else. A hero. But she didn't treat him like one. Not anymore. It was something far more complicated, and far more normal and weird at the same time. And it was exactly what he wanted. It was what he needed.

"Yes, I do."


	6. Pranks, Portkeys Peruvian Vipertooths

Harry stood behind Mr. Weasley as they approached the Burrow's front door. Through the windows, he saw Ginny tilt her head, looking over at the clock. A slow smile spread over her face, and a grin stretched at his. As Mr. Weasley pushed open the door, Ron and Ginny both leapt to their feet.

"Harry! Let's see!" There was a huge commotion as everyone rushed to see the Muggle money. Mrs Weasley put a firm hand on the twins' shoulders as they moved to get up from their task with his pants. He thought he saw her smirk for a second, but he blinked, and it was gone.

"I'm his girlfriend!"

"I'm his best mate!"

"So am I!"

"I'm older!"

"You pig! Harry, I'll be first, won't I?"

Harry bit his cheek, and wondered what he'd be able to get away with. Then his eyes landed on the one Weasley brother who was not paying attention. The one who was quietly reading at the dinner table. "Actually, I thought Percy might like to see first."

Ron blinked, looking rather like Harry had just slapped him with a fish. Ginny's jaw dropped too, but then she looked at Harry in a way that made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Harry," Percy said, sounding a little surprised himself.

"That's okay," Harry replied. "Ginny said you took Muggle Studies, so I thought you might already know something about it."

Percy looked at him closely, and he suddenly noticed the tension in the room. The olive branch was there...

Percy took the one pound coin that Harry was holding out. "It isn't gold-plated silver like a galleon. Muggles used to make their coins from Sterling silver, but now they use steel instead. Obviously, their currency isn't worth as much, and I believe the current exchange rate is close to one to fifty."

"Yeah, that's what Gornuk said," Harry confirmed. He still found the goblins quite creepy. The fact that they acted and talked like they wanted to hurt you by default might have had something to do with that. "The exchange rate bit anyway. These pound coins are made in a factory called the Royal Mint, but that's about all I know about them."

"So, fifty of those is a galleon?" Fred or George asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, flicking another pound coin at him. "There are a few other coins as well, and then there's the paper money." He started to put the different coins out on the kitchen table.

"Paper money?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Their money isn't worth enough that they can carry it around as we do for shopping and such, so they need paper substitutes," Percy explained.

Ron picked up a five pound note. "So this is paper?"

"There are too many Muggles for them to be able to use parchment. So they make their writing materials from trees rather than sheep- or pigskin," Percy continued.

"So we're writing on leather?" Harry asked, staring down at his shoes.

"Perceptive, this one," Fred teased.

"They are made differently, Harry," Mrs Weasley explained.

"I can see how it'd be useful," Ginny said. "I mean, it's not like they have featherweight charms or anything, is it?"

"Yeah, and they take up less space, too," Harry agreed.

* * *

After a considerable amount of time spent discussing the muggle money and muggles in general, Mrs Weasley finally decided it was time to go. For this was the day they left for Romania, and Charlie's dragon reserve. Mr. Weasley enchanted all of their trunks to shrink down to the size of Harry's copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He then put them all in a master trunk, which he levitated around. The spectacle held Harry captivated, though no one else paid it any mind.

Mr. and Mrs Weasley took turns Apparating them all to the Gatwick International Portkey Station. It was enormous — easily ten times as long as the Great Hall. The ceiling wasn't quite as high, though, and Harry had a feeling they were underground. As it was, the air was filled with the rushing sounds of Portkey activations, and the flashes of light could be seen dancing on the ceiling.

He grabbed Ginny's hand, and held it as he stared around at the huge hall. When he looked back to her, she was smirking slightly with a raised eyebrow.

 ** _'What? We don't want to get separated...'_**

She giggled and dragged him along behind her parents. After finding out which stall they were leaving from, they departed for Section E (East Europe) to find stall 26. Harry wondered why so many stalls were required for such a small number of countries, when he realised that the magical community was far greater than he had even imagined. Stalls 19 through 27 were marked as 'Romania'. Stalls 19 to 24 were 'Bucharest International Portkey Station'. Their stall, conveniently enough, was marked:

 **Sibiu**

 **Central European Dragon Reserve**

Their queue wasn't too long — only one party was standing ahead of them, but the strict schedules that kept people from Portkeying into each other meant they had over half an hour to wait. It seemed the station they were going to was quite small.

"Mum, do you mind if Harry and I go to get sweets?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, well, if you're going you should all probably go. Your father and I will hold our place in the line. And bring me back a box of Every Flavour Beans, would you, dear? It's been far too long!" Mr. Weasley pointed them in the right direction, and Harry could see the bright lights from the store in the distance.

"So, Ron," Harry grinned, "how close do you reckon Charlie'll let us get to the dragons?"

"You're seriously worrying about Charlie on that?" Ron asked incredulously. "I'll be surprised if Mum lets us see a bloody dragon."

"Come off it, it's a reserve, not a zoo," said Harry. "The dragons will be everywhere."

Ron gave him a pitying, 'you'll see' kind of look. "You just don't know Mum yet."

"He's right, you know, Harry," Fred chipped in.

"Yeah, she'll ward us all to kingdom come, and strap us down with ropes if it'll keep the dragons away," George said.

"So if we want to see anything cool, we have to be sneaky about it," Ginny grinned.

"Sneaky isn't hard when you're as small as us," Harry replied, nudging her shoulder.

"Don't we know it," George groaned. Ginny only giggled in response.

"Still, you're not quite as small as you were, Harry," Fred mused.

"Yeah, looks like Oliver's exercise programs..."

"... Had some effect on you, at least."

"Just annoys the hell out of us."

"Although, to be honest..."

"... You had a lot more to gain..."

"... Than we ever did."

It was true. Harry had come to Hogwarts rake-thin. Now he didn't feel like a complete idiot if he flexed his bicep. He was still slim, and had nothing on the twins' muscular builds, but at least he had some 'meat on his bones'. The healing ritual Madam Pomfrey had performed hadn't hurt either. It was certainly easier to handle his broom at high speeds now, and that was the point, wasn't it?

Sugarplum's Sweet Shop looked a little bit like someone had thrown red, purple and pink paint bombs at it and called the result decorating. It was the wildest explosion of colour Harry had ever seen. And once he got inside... The place was some kind of confectionery wonderland. A few he recognised - Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs and Liquorice Wands. But the vast majority were completely alien. A lot of them were more than a little forbidding. He wasn't sure he wanted to take a chance on Cockroach Cluster, and Acid Pops and Exploding Bon-bons looked downright dangerous!

While Ginny ran around deliberating, Ron caught his attention. "Mate, check these out. I know how much you love being in the air."

He was indicating a sweet called Fizzing Whizbees. Harry offered him a questioning look in response.

"They make you float, don't they?" he said as if talking to a half-wit. Which, he considered, he sort of was, since the promotional tagline on the shelf quite clearly stated its effects.

 _They give you wings!_

"Heh, why not?" he grinned. He took two packs, glad of something to hold.

Just then, Ginny reappeared from whichever isle she had run off to on her search. "Pepper Imps!" she explained.

"What do you want with them?" Ron asked. "They'll make you look like your head's on fire!"

"That'd suit you down to the ground," Harry grinned.

"Hey!" Ginny scowled.

"What? It's true," he smirked.

She glowered at him a bit more, but a smile soon started tugging at the corners of her mouth. "D'you really think so?"

"Whatever," Ron interrupted. "You're still gonna look like a torch."

Ginny gave him a sour look. "Ron, it's mid-winter and we're going to be in the mountains..." she said slowly. "I plan to be perfectly warm, thank you very much."

"You could just summon fire," he countered.

"Sure, but these taste nice," Ginny concluded, before skipping off to pay.

"This is all so bloody weird..." Ron muttered.

"This being...? Because I could name a bunch of things," Harry laughed.

"Ginny," Ron clarified.

"Nope, you're still gonna have to narrow it down for me," he smirked.

Ron scrunched up his face. "The way this all just seemed to happen..."

"What are you two up to then, eh?" Fred and George grinned at them.

"We detected a bit too much serious coming from here..."

"...And decided it was our duty to deal with it."

"How do you define too much serious?" Harry asked.

"Funny you should ask, Harry," George grinned.

"See, we take excess seriousness very seriously," Fred continued solemnly.

"After all," said George, "there's just too much of it already."

"Exams."

"Chores."

"Slytherins."

"Mum."

"And how do you deal with being so serious about serious?" Harry sniggered.

"A sacrifice that must be made for the good of all," Fred intoned in a mocking imitation of Percy.

"It makes us happy just to see others being able to lighten up a bit," George added. Ron snorted.

"Right, sure," Harry smirked.

"Say, Harry," Fred grinned.

"We were just thinking," said George.

"This has got to be your first time in a place like this, right?" Fred asked.

"So why don't you let us give you the guided tour?" George offered.

"Whoa, Harry, don't take anything these two give you," Ron warned.

Harry stepped in before the twins could defend themselves. "Don't worry, Ron. After their welcoming gift I'll be counting my fingers every time I shake their hands," he laughed.

Twin glints appeared in their eyes.

"Hey, I know that look," Ginny said gleefully from behind Harry and Ron. "What are you two up to?"

"You know, I think we should spend some time getting to know each other, Harry," George said, ignoring his sister.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot..."

"But I'm sure that we could get along like a house on fire," George finished, identical conspiratorial smirks pulling at his and his brother's faces.

"Be warned," Harry said. "Try anything on me and I know plenty of ways to make you regret it."

"Shake on it?" Fred laughed.

Harry smirked as he accepted Fred's hand. He ignored the buzzing sensation from the practical joke as he rotated his hand in Fred's grip slightly, driving his thumb into the back of Fred's wrist and pulling his hand outwards.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do we have a deal?"

Fred nodded quickly, his eyes wide.

"Harry... Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. George was snickering to himself at his brother's predicament.

"People need to know when to stop," Harry muttered, his eyes downcast. He released the older boy, who immediately started checking his fingers and looking at Harry in amazement.

"Harry, they were just kidding around," Ginny said gently.

"I want it to stay that way," Harry said. "Sorry about that, Fred."

"You got me fair and square mate," Fred replied. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"My cousin Dudley is very... talented," Harry answered darkly.

Fred blinked. "I..."

"Well now you're more talented. Aren't you mate?" George interjected.

"Yeah..." Harry mused. "Guess I am."

* * *

"Hello again everyone," a jubilant voice called.

"Charlie!" Ginny cried.

Harry grunted as he hauled himself to his feet. That had been one of the least pleasant experiences of his life. The rough landing had been bad enough, but the journey itself... The voices he'd heard in that void they'd been hurtling through would haunt him forever. Still, he didn't think he wanted to start telling people he was hearing voices, so he decided to keep it to himself.

The portkey itself had turned out to be a simple length of rope, with a ribbon tied on in the middle. When the portkey was about to activate, the ribbon started flashing, and Harry had felt an almost painful tug at his midriff, as if someone had him on a hook and just jerked the line. They seemed to be drawn up incredibly quickly, rotating at insane speeds. Or maybe that was just the void around them. Or a total illusion. Harry wasn't too fussed about that after he heard them calling to him.

They were so weary and pained... Harry wasn't even sure he could make out individual voices. But he knew they were many — all around him and stretching out to infinity.

And then the vortex had ripped through the darkness. Mr. Weasley told him to let go, and he fell down, down... The voices faded. He hit the ground with a thud.

Harry looked up at the solid ceiling above. He couldn't hear them anymore.

"And you must be Harry Potter."

Harry looked up at the man standing over him. He had a face so freckled it looked tanned, with deep blue eyes that looked both warm and forbidding, and a speculative smile. There seemed to be a faint burn on his left cheek, which spoke of the dangers of his work on a dragon reserve. He was of an impressive build, with broad shoulders and large, defined muscles that put even the twins to shame.

"So everybody keeps reminding me," Harry replied lightly. "Pleased to meet you, Charlie." He offered his hand.

"Likewise," Charlie grinned.

"I hope you aren't planning to test me too..." Harry said more quietly, looking closely at Charlie.

"I bet you do," Charlie smirked.

"Charlie, you really shouldn't wear your hair so long, you look unkempt," Mrs Weasley complained. Charlie rolled his eyes at Harry and led them out of the chamber, nodding to a woman who signed off their time slot. The rope portkey, which had been sitting on the floor behind them, vanished instantly, presumably headed back to England.

Charlie led them out of the small portkey station into Dinotopia.

The first thing Harry noticed when they left the building was the clearly defined perimeter around it, outside of which the distribution of green grass and flowers changed quite dramatically. Beyond a three metre wide gravel path, there was an apparently random scattering of razed ground amongst the most verdant vegetation Harry could imagine. The entire world was oversaturated with colour. Then, he sensed movement off to the right. Two colossal dragons soared skywards, locked together and snorting jets of blue and orange flame.

"Woah..." Harry breathed.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Charlie grinned. The two dragons soon disappeared above the clouds. "That's a draconic mating dance..."

"Charlie!" Mrs Weasley cried. "They don't need to know about this!"

Mr Weasley chuckled. "Molly, you're trying to command the tide to stay out."

"No I'm not, they're only children. Now I'll hear no more of this," she ordered.

"No, you won't," Harry heard Fred snigger under his breath.

"Ignorance is bliss," George agreed quietly.

Ginny smiled at Harry amusedly. ** _'My family,'_** she laughed in his head. Harry smirked back. Ginny suddenly started giggling uncontrollably. **_'You still look kinda ridiculous like that.'_**

 ** _'Grown fond of my usual look, have you?'_** Harry asked, teasingly.

 ** _'Yeah, you're kinda nice looking,'_** she laughed. Harry flushed slightly. She squeezed his hand slightly, then let go, gazing up at the flashes of blue and orange in the light cloud cover as the two dragons... coupled. It was like a very localised multicolour thunderstorm.

"So, Charlie," Mr. Weasley said, "where did you say we would be staying? I'd like to get the tents set up so that we can stop lugging this around." He indicated the trunk he and Charlie were levitating.

"The camping site is behind the main building," Charlie said, pointing at a low structure a little way ahead.

"Outside?" Mrs Weasley fretted.

"Mum, a few inches of stone can't stop dragon fire," Charlie laughed. "The wards are more than up to the job."

"Of course," she replied huffily. "I'm a mother; it's my job to worry."

"You're more than up to it, Mum," Charlie grinned.

"Don't get smart with me, young man," Mrs Weasley said, narrowing her eyes. "I still remember when you came crying to me because that village girl was more interested in Bill."

"Mum!" Charlie cried in outrage. "I was not crying."

"You see," Mrs Weasley smiled. "You're still my little boy."

Charlie muttered to himself as he led them towards the main building. Harry looked around, wondering to himself where all the dragons were. Apart from the two getting to know each other up on high, he couldn't see any at all. He voiced this, and Charlie seemed to welcome the distraction.

"They need a lot of personal territory," he said. "In all the land you can see from here, there are eleven fully grown males. We have thirty eight on site. So, this reserve has a ward on it that no one actually understands - there's one set of mountains for magical people and creatures, and one for non-magical. You could be standing in a muggle right now."

Harry blinked. _'Two sets of mountains?'_

"That's amazing," Percy said in awe.

"Isn't it?" Charlie grinned. "People have been studying dragon reserves for generations, and nobody has figured it out. All dragon reserves have this ward, you see."

"Hermione'll figure it out," Harry and Ginny said assuredly.

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

"Who?" Charlie asked.

"A friend back at Hogwarts," Ginny said. "She's muggle-born, but she learns so fast she was top of every class from the beginning!"

"I'm sure she'll try then," Charlie chuckled. "Speaking of Hogwarts, how's it been?"

"Amazing!" Ginny enthused. "There's just so many brilliant people, and the castle is so incredibly big... I wouldn't know where to start."

"I know what you mean," Charlie said. "I'll never forget my years at Hogwarts. Even working at a dragon reserve hasn't dulled my memories of the place." He grinned back at them. "So tell me all about your classmates, what are they like?"

Harry's mind drifted as Ginny described all their classmates, from Dean Thomas to Megan Jones, from Michael Corner to Tracey Davis, Sally-Ann Perks to Justin Finch-Fletchley, and the Patil twins to Blaise Zabini. Somehow, Ginny had something to say about everyone in the year group. Perhaps that was what she did when she was in the library with Hermione, or whenever she wasn't watching him at Quidditch practice. She was socialising. Harry was so comfortable with his friends and dorm mates, he barely bothered talking to anyone else.

"Wait, you've been talking to Slytherins?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes, Ron..." Ginny replied as if he were so slow. "Just 'cause Malfoy and Parkinson and that lot are-"

"Bloody tossers," Ron muttered under his breath.

Ginny spoke over him, "Complete idiots, it doesn't mean the rest of them are. And they aren't. Daphne's kind of aloof with pretty much everyone, but Tracey's nice enough when those losers aren't around."

"Ginny, did you say Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Yes," Ginny replied, "Draco Malfoy."

"Blond hair? Pale? Arrogant?" her father prompted. Ron chuckled quietly.

"Yeah, he does seem to be Lucius Malfoy's son," Ginny said.

"Be careful around him," Mr. Weasley warned. "His father can cause a lot of trouble."

"Yes, daddy," Ginny replied. After a short pause, she sent on, "So Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson go around with their friends giving everyone else grief. Malfoy uses Crabbe and Goyle like bodyguards or something, and Parkinson has Rayne and Bulstrode to follow her around."

"When you say they give people grief..." Mrs Weasley pressed.

"They haven't beaten anyone up or anything, Mrs Weasley," Harry said.

"But Crabbe and Goyle look threatening enough," Ginny added. "If Malfoy wants something, he'll get it, I'm sure."

"Doesn't help that Snape takes care of his own," Ron grumbled.

"Yeah, he's a right piece of work," Charlie agreed. Harry noticed the parents exchange a look, but didn't mention it.

"I'm sure the professors will step in if these kids do anything serious," Mr. Weasley said reassuringly.

"So, you've got a fairly interesting year group there," Charlie said. "Has it been an eventful term?"

"There was one thing, dear brother..." George began.

"... That you will never guess at," Fred finished.

"You two finally kicked things off with those two chasers?" Charlie smirked.

"Charles!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

"What, Mum?" he laughed. "Harry is the youngest here, and he clearly has a fine interest in the fairer gender." Ginny beamed at him.

"Don't take liberties just because you're out of the house," Mrs Weasley warned in a sharp tone.

"Yes, Mum," he acquiesced.

"Go on boys, tell the story," Mr. Weasley prompted.

"Well..." Fred began, "at the Halloween feast..."

"... We were all enjoying the awesome food and the awesome show..." said George.

"... When all of a sudden, the doors of the Great Hall burst open..."

* * *

"...there's a village not far from us - Ottery St.-"

There was a loud bang. Harry turned his attention from Ginny to the Great Hall's double doors, which had burst wide open to admit a frantic Professor Quirrell, who started screaming.

"TROLL! Troll in the dungeons!" he cried hysterically as he ran towards the head table. Harry wondered how a professor of defence could be so perturbed, but Quirrell was fairly jumpy at the best of times. The professor stopped suddenly halfway across the hall, not far from where Harry was sitting. The tense, panicked expression started to go slack. "Thought you ought to know," he said weakly, before slumping to the ground in a dead faint.

The hall, which had been silent throughout the episode, erupted into chaos. People leapt from their benches screaming. For the first time, Harry saw fear on Ginny's face. It didn't suit her.

"Hermione..." she gasped. She turned on her brother in fury. "You stupid prick!"

Ron gaped, staring blindly at her.

Earlier that day, Ron had finally done what he had been threatening to do since the first day of school. In Charms, Ron and Hermione had been partnered with each other as they finally tried the levitation charm. Ron had failed utterly. Hermione, as she was wont to do, tried to correct him, which only served to rile him up. So he challenged her to do it herself. She had levitated her feather with the casual air of someone who'd done it a thousand times. With hindsight, Harry supposed that Hermione was baiting him just a bit, but boy did Ron react. He sulked for the rest of class, while Hermione got her extra credit.

When the class was over, he publicly mocked her, imitating the painfully enthusiastic way her hand shook in the air when she knew the answer to a problem. His impersonations were exaggerated and endless, and he had never behaved so much like Draco Malfoy. The worst thing about the whole mess was that Hermione was walking behind him through his whole performance. Harry and Ginny, having gone ahead, noticed Ron's behaviour far too late. Powerless to stop it, they watched horrified as Hermione burst into tears and ran in the opposite direction. Ginny had chased after her while Harry picked up her fallen bag. He'd nearly punched Ron then, he was so mad.

Back in the great hall, Ron was stuttering his way into a deeper hole. "I didn't..."

"Shut your bloody mouth!" Ginny snarled.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's voice boomed out over the hall. The student body stopped and turned to him as one. "Everybody return to your house tables. There is no need for panic." As the students all began to return to their places, he spoke again. "Now, prefects, please escort your houses to your common rooms. Slytherin students should go to the hospital wing instead. Professors, please accompany me to the dungeons."

"Where did Hermione go?" Harry asked.

"A girls' bathroom on the first floor," Ginny answered, leading them to a rearward part of the Gryffindor crowd.

"Do you have a plan?" Harry asked.

Ginny grimaced, and muttered, "Only a last resort." At a look from him she finished. "Fire."

Harry nodded solemnly. "We'll try to distract the troll, but if it looks bad..."

By this time, the crowd was on the grand staircase. Ginny slipped through the throng to the door leading onto the western hallway, eased it open, and slipped through. Harry and Ron followed quickly. Nobody was paying too much attention, as they had lost their classmates, and everyone else was wrapped up in their own excited conversations. They hurried on, Harry taking the lead now, skidding slightly on the stone floor as he took a right turn, when he saw it.

The troll paid the three scared children no mind, being unaware of everything but the room it was wandering into. It was massive, maybe taller than Hagrid, and the ground trembled with its every step. It was built like a tank, but its head seemed of human size on the gargantuan body. And in its right hand, on the end of an arm thicker than Harry's whole body, was a club as long as Ron was tall, and likely the same weight, too.

Harry gritted his teeth to steel himself. "Mountain troll," Ginny said grimly. "Charlie taught us to identify them. Biggest and strongest of the three types, but not the smartest." She looked at Harry, and there was a fire in her eyes the like of which he had never seen before. "The Professors are down in the dungeon. This is up to us."

"Simple," Ron grinned nervously. "Lock it in."

They hurried to the door the troll had just gone through, when Ginny gasped and threw her hands out to stop them. "This is the bathroom! Hermione's..."

She was cut off by a scream that made Harry's blood run cold, an icy gauntlet crushing his stomach and rending at his lungs. His awareness tunnelled as he barrelled through the doorway and jumped at the troll, kicking out to propel himself backwards off the creature's back. He rolled as he landed, scrambling away from the troll, whose attention he'd certainly gained. Ginny was pulling Ron away from the doorway, where he had been staring at the scene. Harry ran, yelling provocations to the troll, and throwing every one of the two jinxes he knew back at it. He needed to give them time to get Hermione the hell out of there. The image of her mutilated body resolved slowly but vividly in his mind.

"Harry!" Ginny called. "Our turn!"

He heard a thud, and looked back to see a brick on the ground behind the troll. Hermione was standing behind the Weasleys, struck dumb with horror.

Ron was yelling now, and Ginny was... shadow boxing? But the troll was in disarray, searching for an enemy it could not see and reeling from the phantom blows. Then she played her ace. The massive wooden club ignited, and the troll cried out in agony, releasing it. Ginny continued to punch the troll, but Ron had other ideas. He pointed his wand at the abandoned, flaming club. Irony of ironies, he swished and flicked, and it floated up into the air, high above the troll's head. Ginny stopped in her surprise, and the troll, realising his torment was over, threw his head back and roared. Hermione visibly quailed, but Ron's jaw only set.

"Ron, no," Harry called, but it was no use. The club smashed into the troll's face with a crunch, and it collapsed on its back with a crash that made the ground under their feet shake. Harry approached the troll with some trepidation. Its face, although ugly to begin with, was a charred mess. But the chest rose and fell just barely every few seconds. It was still alive.

Hermione was sitting now, her arms wrapped around her legs, and staring blankly at nothing. Ron was still holding the club in mid air, staring at the undying magical inferno. Ginny got her on her feet.

"We have to get back to the common room," Ginny said. "We-"

"What has happened here?!"

Harry almost wished it had been Snape. Anyone but the woman who had put such faith in him, putting him on the Quidditch team and getting him a Nimbus 2000...

"Miss Weasley, I thought you better than to try to test yourself in such a life-threatening manner. And to bring your friends into the fray! You all could have been killed! You should be ashamed of yourself, girl. And you three! How could you let her? What exactly possessed you, friends and family, to allow her to throw herself against a full-grown mountain troll?" McGonagall's lips were so thin they might have been lasered on. She looked as terrified and horror-struck as Hermione had. With her were Quirrell and Snape. Some sort of strike team, perhaps. If so, Quirrell was a placeholder, for at the sight of the troll he collapsed against the wall, clutching his heart. Snape moved to examine the troll, giving Ginny a funny look as he passed.

"Please, Professor McGonagall." It was Hermione. "It was my fault."

They all turned to stare. Hermione never lied. She was a bloody saint. Priests probably came to her for confession. But for her to lie to those gods on earth, teachers...

"I'd read all about trolls, and I thought I knew how to handle one," Hermione continued. "But I was wrong. If Harry, Ginny and Ron hadn't stepped in, I'd... I'd probably be..."

Snape's face was cold and calculating, and he was staring at Ginny with a great intensity. McGonagall was furious, and shocked, but Harry could tell that at least Snape wasn't buying it. He wanted to reveal the truth, the necessity of their intervention, dare them to claim that they might have gotten to Hermione in time. She wasn't Harry's favourite person. She'd softened a bit under Ginny's influence, but her utter dedication and holier than thou attitude still made her difficult to be around. Despite that, he had grown strangely attached to her in the past weeks, and besides, he wouldn't have left the Dursleys to the mercy of that troll. Harry wanted to yell in their faces, yet he got the feeling that an outburst now wouldn't help matters.

"Miss Granger, I would never have believed it of you. How could you of all people be so impulsive and headstrong?" The professor seemed to deflate slightly, but she was still irate. "Ten points from Gryffindor for reckless folly. Go to bed, Granger, I don't doubt that this is a lesson you shan't be forgetting in a hurry."

Hermione stuttered out another apology and a thank you. She started walking away as McGonagall bade her, but stopped at the T-junction in the hallway to wait.

"As for you three," the professor continued. "Never in my life would I have expected three first years to go toe to toe with a troll. Less still incapacitate him so..." she searched about for the right word, "thoroughly. Such idiotic heroism. Fifteen points to each of you for valour and magical prowess. And detention with me at seven thirty on Sunday. Bed now, all of you. Don't keep Miss Granger waiting."

The club dropped to the ground with a thud, and stopped burning instantly.

* * *

"What happened to the troll?" Charlie asked.

"I guess they got it," Fred shrugged.

"Didn't hear much about it after that," George added.

"Just that it survived," Fred said.

"You know, Ginny, I couldn't believe it when you wrote to us about that," Mrs Weasley said. "Honestly, a troll roaming free in the school?"

"Well, the staff dealt with it," Mr. Weasley replied. "No harm done."

"Yes, but..." Mrs Weasley sighed. "I suppose a Hogwarts without some danger is a rather unlikely prospect."

"Just so long as you listen to the prefects and professors, you should be just fine," Mr. Weasley said.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other.

"That's an eventful first term, at any rate," Charlie laughed. "Here's the campsite. Let's get the tent set up."

* * *

By Christmas Eve, Harry was truly able to appreciate why Charlie did what he did. He had never laid eyes on anything so awe inspiring as dragons in flight. The tents they were staying in put up a decent fight, though.

When Charlie and Mr. Weasley started setting up two, two-man tents, he had volunteered to help set up the others. But there were no others. He could only stare as Mr. Weasley, Charlie, Mrs Weasley, Fred and George all climbed into the first. Ron had grinned and teased him, and he supposed that the scope of magic's effect on how he would live his life just hadn't hit him yet.

Now, as he gazed at a Norwegian Ridgeback engaged in an aerial duel with a Hungarian Horntail, his porridge forgotten but still steaming in his lap, it was slowly sinking in. Charlie sat down next to him. The second eldest of the Weasley boys was kept busy during the day, as he had plenty to do as a tour guide, but he ate with them in the mornings and evenings.

"Dragons are some of the oldest, most powerful beings we know of," Charlie said. "The oldest dragon on the reserve has been here since our first records of its existence, about six hundred years ago."

Harry turned to look at him. "How long do they usually live for?"

"Unless they die fighting..." Charlie smiled ruefully. "We've never actually seen one die of old age." The young man looked at him carefully. "I almost thought you were feigning attention to curry favour with me or something. Stupid of me, really. Ginny wouldn't have any patience for someone like that."

"No, she wouldn't," Harry agreed. They sat in companionable silence for a while.

"You know, better it come from me than Mum," Charlie grinned, "you're gonna want to eat that."

Harry poked at the porridge, but couldn't take his eyes off the dragons. "What do you think they're fighting over?"

"Usually I'd say territory, or a female," Charlie said. "That's another curious thing about dragons. Males will fight each other to prove dominance, but a female still won't mate with a male until he's at least proven her equal in combat."

"You said usually," Harry commented. He wondered if Charlie was trying to make a point about Ginny but chose to ignore it.

Charlie frowned in thought. "That Ridgeback is Xuriel, and the Horntail is Axolniar. They occupy territories with ten clear miles in between. And they've each claimed a female within the last year. They might just be sparring, keeping themselves sharp."

"Have they fought before?" Harry asked.

"Twice," Charlie replied. "I'll be looking over the notes on those encounters tonight. Wrangling rogue dragons is exciting enough, but it's solving mysteries like this that makes day to day work interesting."

"Why?" Harry asked. Charlie looked at him like he had a second head. "Wood talks about you all the time. Why did you choose studying and handling dragons over Seeking for England?"

Charlie chuckled. "I won the Cup in my sixth year, Harry. It's a feeling like you'll never get again. You hold that thing in the air and you are a God. Everybody has your name on their lips. If I played Quidditch professionally, and it became my life, I don't think I'd be able to handle growing old. I wanted to let go before it was too late. Besides, it's not like I'm compromising."

Harry considered that for a moment. He had never known such joy as soaring through the air at a hundred miles an hour with nothing to support you but a three metre long piece of wood. It was freedom. Not being able to fly freely... He couldn't conceive of losing that.

"Have you ever ridden on a dragon's back?" Harry asked.

"Nobody has," Charlie responded. "Well, not on a willing dragon, anyway. They aren't beasts of burden, Harry."

"No, I get that, I was just wondering," Harry defended.

"I'd probably better get going," Charlie said. "You're alright, Harry. But I'm still keeping an eye on you." They stared at each other for a while.

"I don't want to hurt her," Harry said.

"I don't think you do," Charlie agreed. "But you don't have to want to. Eat up, kid." He then walked off towards the facility main entrance, waving to the other Weasleys as he passed the tents.

Harry dug into his porridge, still avidly watching the dragons. There was something about the way they fought. It didn't have the merciless quality of Dudley's bullying, or Ginny's put-downs. It was more like they were testing each other. They seemed so invulnerable. Every scorching burst of flame, or savage blow from tail or claw was simply shrugged off. Neither had seemed to lose control of their flight. Suddenly, just as the Ridgeback swung at the neck of the Horntail, the Horntail dived, throwing its spiked tail in response. It swung through the oncoming claw, battering it, and smashing into Xuriel's face. The Ridgeback lost his bearings, dropping like a stone, just recovering about halfway to the ground. Axolniar hovered for a moment, before flying off and leaving Xuriel alone to recover and return to his own territory.

"Harry, what were you and Charlie talking about?" Ron asked, leaving the shelter of the tent.

"Dragons," Harry shrugged. "He was telling me about why he chose this over Quidditch."

"Yeah, weird that," Ron said. "Still, dragons are pretty damn cool."

"Yeah, they are," he agreed.

The day went by slowly. The twins especially were beginning to chafe from being unable to see more of the reserve. Ginny told him that they probably couldn't afford actual tours. She'd overheard her parents talking about the employee discount Charlie was getting for their camping space, so sitting around playing games and talking was probably all they'd be able to do. Even Fred and George's mission to escape the camp site proved fruitless.

They had come out with Harry, Ron and Ginny after lunch (Percy spent most of the time reading indoors), and talked avidly with them about everything and nothing, but Harry noticed that as time went by they said less and less. Ginny certainly noticed too, for she was grinning in her anticipation. Maybe twenty minutes later, they were saying nothing at all. One of them made a comment, and then they were off. Ron was opening his mouth to say something, but Ginny must have done something, for his voice cut off abruptly leaving him stupefied. She dragged them into the second tent, and they sat on the floor talking. Maybe ten seconds passed before Mrs Weasley could be heard yelling and chasing after them.

"Pity," Ginny frowned. "I almost hoped they'd manage it. Would be nice to get a closer look."

"I reckon I've got a healthy respect for how quickly they could melt my face off," Harry laughed.

"Afraid, Potter?" Ginny taunted.

"Yes." The admission didn't come easily, and he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in her expression. But he was not the kind of guy to randomly chase after dragons, and he wasn't going to let her think otherwise. Never tickle a sleeping dragon. It was the school motto, and after the display of that morning he fully accepted its wisdom. They were several times bigger, stronger and smarter than trolls, and that had been bad enough.

"Don't worry," she laughed. "I'll protect you."

"That's your..." Harry started, but just then Mrs Weasley's voice penetrated through the wind smacking itself against the tent.

"... And if you even breathe outside the wards, I swear you'll be going straight home!"

Fred and George wandered in soon after, disappointment written all over their faces.

"She must have tracking charms on us," Fred groaned.

"Only explanation," George nodded.

"Still, it's Christmas Eve," Fred said.

"And that was by no means our only plan-"

"To add a bit of excitement to this trip."

"No sir," George chuckled.

"What are you planning?" Ron asked.

"Never you mind, Ron," George grinned.

"Not taking us with you?" Ginny challenged.

"Calm yourself, Gin-gin," Fred laughed.

"I'm sure you'll get your turn," George finished.

"You could probably use her help," Harry pointed out.

"Us?" George chuckled.

"We don't need help from anyone mate," Fred said.

"Not even our sweet sister," George added.

"Besides, we're not planning on fighting the damn things!"

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning to a small storm. Pushing himself backwards, he was searching for his glasses under the pillow, when something heavy hit him in the chest. Ginny.

"It's Chriiiiiiissstmaaaaaaaaassss!" she cried happily. Before he could grab her, she was gone, presumably to hunt for the presents. Harry flopped back onto the bed. He didn't get any presents. Not at Christmas. Not ever.

Ron's grinning face appeared over the edge of the top bunk. "Just checking to see she hadn't knocked you out," he laughed.

Harry only groaned and rolled out of bed. It was almost easy to watch Dudley getting spoiled. It was easy to hate him for it, and for being so bloody ungrateful. But he had shared joy and anger with Ron and Ginny for months, in a way he had never known before. He expected that it would be difficult to stand aside as the odd one out this time. Still, he wasn't going to spoil it for them. He grabbed Ron's pillow from next to him and smacked him in the face with it. He sniggered at the confused expression on his friend's face.

"Prick," Ron laughed, before launching himself at Harry. Harry swung the pillow up as a shield, but he was still knocked on his arse. He jumped backwards, staggering as he tried to regain his footing. Then they charged at each other, grabbing each other by the shoulders as each tried to throw the other backwards.

"Has being around the dragons this long started to affect you?" Mr. Weasley asked. They let go of each other abruptly.

"Sorry, sir," Harry grimaced.

"Sorry, Dad," Ron said.

Mr. Weasley smiled wanly at them. "Just don't hurt yourselves. Molly would have a fit."

They dressed quickly, driven by Ron's eagerness to see what he would be given. Ginny ran in half way through to hurry them and ran out twice as fast.

Sure enough, when they emerged from the tent, everybody was already outside waiting for them. A tree had appeared out of nowhere in front of the two tents, surrounded by gifts on all sides. Harry saw the ones he'd gotten for his friends in amongst the others. He realised quickly that this was going to be nothing like the Christmases he'd known. The lack of violent outbursts about the size of the pile was the first clue. Ginny, who'd been the loudest, was sitting quietly on a rock near the fire, honey brown eyes turned to blazing molten bronze by the flames. When she grinned up at him, the metals swirled. He sat next to her, though there was little room.

"You look nice," Harry told her. She was wearing a white set of winter robes, which seemed somehow to make her already colourful features even more vibrant.

She blushed. He noticed that her eyes had stopped swirling, but they kept their hot glow. "Thanks." She got a mischievous look in her eye. "And as dazzled as you are, you'll just have to tell me what you got for me?"

"Sure," Harry smiled. "But it'll be pointless, since you'd have already opened it."

Her eager expression turned into a pout. "Fine. Well, I'm not telling you what I got for you. So there."

Harry blinked at her. "You what?"

"So, are you gonna tell... Oh wait. No..." She frowned with such sorrow that Harry near forgot his own disbelief. "Everyone got you something, Harry," she said softly.

He stared around at everyone sitting around them. He felt Ginny's lips on his cheek, felt her touch his mind with soft words. Ron was holding something out to him. Something rectangular wrapped in ice blue parchment. Snowflakes drifted down through the paper, changing direction as the box moved. The little note on the top wished him a Merry Christmas from Charlie. The man himself was sitting on the other side of the fire, staring at him through the flames. Harry opened the present delicately, afraid that it might collapse into dust. The ribbon came undone at his touch, apparently held together by a charm rather than a serious knot. Within was a book: _A Dragon Handler's Guide to the Known Species_ , by Octavian Kindle.

"I..." Harry trailed off. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Pleasure," Charlie smiled. "Hagrid got it for me back in sixth year. Anyway, I don't need it anymore."

Ron handed out all the gifts. There was a deck of playing cards for each of the twins from the eldest brother, Bill. Fred pulled out a queen of hearts and flicked it at George. George reached up to snatch it out of the air, but it was already swerving around him. The card made a neat arc around his head before returning to Fred's outstretched hand and bemused grin. Ron then gave his dad the Walkman that Dean had brought to Hogwarts. The little CD player had groaned, squealed, given out a lot of smoke and static, and died the first time poor Dean tried to use it. Mr. Weasley was overjoyed with it, even though the only part of it that still worked was the opening and closing CD cover.

Ginny was already fit to burst. Ron grinned at her, putting down the one he'd been checking and picking up another.

"Ron, don't be cruel," Mrs Weasley said.

Ron reluctantly put the new package down and handed the previous one to Ginny. When she saw who it was from, she flashed Harry a smile. She was abnormally restrained as she peeled open the packing. Harry had simply wrapped his gifts in writing parchment and gotten Hermione to help him with a sticking charm. It had driven the poor girl mad when he came to her asking for help with various presents, but never mentioned one for her. Organised as she was, she never noticed the package he slipped into her trunk as they got onto the train. She would though.

The little pendant glittered in the morning light.

"Oh, Harry, how did you get this?" Ginny gasped.

"Remember that fourth year who was selling stuff from Hogsmeade? I persuaded him to pick this up," Harry replied. Hogsmeade was the wizarding village outside Hogwarts that third years and above got to visit on scheduled weekends.

He almost panicked over the possibility of Ginny not liking it, but when he closed his hands around hers, he was reassured. Harry turned it over in her hand, and her eyes went wide.

"Harry, I..." she started.

"No," Harry said. **_'This can only ever belong to you.'_**

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she was smiling like she'd been given the world. "Harry, I don't know what to say." She looked at him carefully, then launched herself at him. They went down in the snow together. But rather than trying to overpower him as she usually did, she just held him tightly. Harry looked around at the other Weasleys. They were continuing with their gift giving. All but Mrs Weasley, who was looking back at him with a watery smile.

* * *

Harry awoke for apparently no reason in the middle of the night. They had all fallen asleep between the fire and the wind-up radio Hermione had given Ginny. Someone or another was singing 'let it snow'. Harry was worried about how long it would last in a clearly magical area. He could swear he had already seen a couple of sparks glow through the plastic casing.

Blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked around for whatever had disturbed him from his rest.

"Hey, look," Harry muttered. Ginny was asleep beside him, her hand clutching the pendant to her chest as if she feared that it might run away in the night. He nudged her gently awake.

"What?" she murmured sleepily.

 ** _'Owls...'_**

"Why? What time is it?" She dragged herself upright, and frowned when she saw the two owls carrying a package of some sort. A few seconds later, they seemed to release it. It floated down and almost whacked Harry in the face, but his seeker reflexes got in the way.

Harry pulled loose the string holding the bundle together, and out flopped a note. Ginny pulled the material within over herself, obviously trying to get back to sleep. He picked up the note, and cast the Wand Lighting Charm to read it by.

"Ooh, Harry, it's too bright," Ginny moaned.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and arranged his wand and the parchment so most of the light was blocked.

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

He felt a lot like he had when they used the portkey; something gripped him behind the navel and tried to yank his guts out.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked, her words becoming slightly more slurred.

"This — this was my dad's!" he whispered.

"What?" She seemed to snap straight out of her half sleep.

"This — whatever it is... it was my dad's!"

He looked over at her. Or he tried to. Her head appeared from empty space as she burrowed out from under the gift. "I'm here, dummy."

Harry shook his head, aiming his wand light at where her legs must be. "Look again."

Ginny went pale. She kicked out violently, and the cloak flew off her. Just as suddenly, her legs were restored to their sight. Letting out a relieved sigh, she stretched and did a graceful flip to her feet.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed. "When did you learn to do that?"

She shrugged, and picked up the cloak. "Years ago. Who cares? Harry, do you know what this is?!"

"Something very cool and pretty bloody freaky," Harry said. "Keep your voice down."

Ginny made a face at him. Still, she lowered her voice. "Didn't you notice? Fred and George spiked everyone's drinks last night. They wanted to get out and see the dragons close up. I swapped their mugs with ours."

"Why?" Harry asked.

She sat back down. "Ugly as they are, I prefer my brothers' faces on their heads and un-melted." Harry laughed to himself. "I thought you wanted us to be quiet," Ginny taunted. "But that's not the point. This is!" She shook the cloak. "Harry, this is an invisibility cloak! They're so rare you could... I don't know."

"It was my Dad's," he said.

"Wait, no that can't be right," said Ginny. "Invisibility cloaks never last more than a few years before they start to lose their power. If this was your Dad's cloak it's more than ten years old."

"Then it was really well made," Harry insisted.

"Maybe," Ginny relented. "If it was your Dad's, why didn't they give it back to you sooner?"

The possibilities of having this cloak while he had been with the Dursleys made his head spin. "Maybe they couldn't for some reason..."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, it doesn't say who sent it, so you can't really ask. Wonder who your Dad would've given his cloak to?"

"I don't really know much about him," Harry admitted. "I wouldn't know..."

"Hey," Ginny said, interrupting his thoughts. "Have you got any idea what we could do with this?"

"The twins would never see us coming," Harry grinned. He took the cloak from her and went back inside the boys' tent to hide it in his trunk. After all this time, he'd finally come across something of his parents'... "You can't tell anyone, Ginny."

"I promise I won't," Ginny replied solemnly.

"Thanks," Harry said. He was beginning to understand why Ginny wanted their telepathy kept secret. "Wait, what happened to the owls?"

They found the owls worrying over the small pile of chocolate frog boxes they'd gone through. Ginny went into the boys' tent and pilfered some of Errol's owl treats from her father's room. The two birds, a pair of tawny owls, both wore the Hogwarts coat of arms on their right wing. It could have been natural colour variation if not for the sheer level of precision. The owls took the treats gratefully, and looked to the drugged, half full glasses on the table.

"No!" Ginny hissed.

She and Harry ran after the owls and shooed them into the tent, where they could drink untainted water as opposed to, well, whatever the twins had used as a tranquilizer. They sat together in the little kitchen, watching the owls drink from a bowl.

"Is it still Christmas?" Harry asked. Now that he was up again, he didn't want to let go of the day.

Ginny scanned the room. "Ehh, why not?" Her sleeve lifted as she turned, showing a little bit of red under her robes.

"Hey, you're hurt," he said. He took her hand before she could protest and examined the bite.

"One of them must have been real thirsty," Ginny supplied. "Let me try this." She withdrew her hand and waved the other over it. The skin instantly re-meshed, without a trace of the prior cut.

"You're really getting good at that, aren't you?" Harry commented. He remembered how flushed and bothered she used to get whenever she used magic like this.

Ginny smiled mockingly at him. "Of course after apparating, healing a small bite is the next big milestone for me."

"You should definitely write to Professor Dumbledore," Harry threw back.

One of the owls chose that moment to fly over to Ginny and land on her head. Ginny looked upwards incredulously, then shook her head around trying to get it off. "Stop laughing," she complained. Harry bit his lip, but he just couldn't contain himself. The owl hooted indignantly before flapping over to his partner. They each found high places to perch, presumably to get some rest after their long journey.

Harry turned to Ginny. "We should probably go get some rest, too." Her hair was a mess after her tangle with the owl, and she was glaring up at the little creature.

"We'll need to find a way to hide these two," she muttered finally.

Harry hadn't thought about what questions might be asked if everyone woke up to find a couple of random Hogwarts owls in their tent. "How long will they want to rest for?"

"How long do you want your dad's cloak to stay a secret?"

* * *

Harry awoke to repeated pecking. Hedwig. He groaned and stretched. "Good morning, Hedwig," he yawned. She flapped up to his shoulder, nipping again at his ear. He looked around at the others. He and Ginny had returned to the fireside so as to not look suspicious, and it seemed that he had been last to wake. "Did you get them out, girl?" he asked. Hedwig hopped down onto his forearm and gave him a baleful look, like he was so incredibly stupid. Harry fished a couple of owl treats out of his pocket for her to eat. He was still shocked that an owl could have such a good grasp of the English language. When he told Hedwig what needed doing last night, she'd bobbed her head and flown right on into the tent.

He rolled over and got to his feet. He could smell the bacon. Making his way towards the kitchen, Harry's stomach rumbled so much, he thought he'd be heard before he was seen. He was.

"Harry, is that you?" Mrs Weasley called.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," he replied. The owls were nowhere to be found.

"It's good that you're hungry," she smiled. "I've just finished making breakfast."

"Yes please," Harry grinned. "There's going to be people back in England that'll smell that and come running."

"Oh Harry, you flatter me," Mrs Weasley laughed. "Sit down, go on."

For his part, Harry was confused as he sat next to Ginny. He never would have had the guts to try a compliment like that a few weeks ago. Where did that come from?

He got through three helpings of bacon, eggs and sausages before he finally felt full. Ginny stole his last sausage and bolted out into the cold morning. Harry washed up after both of them before following. Only, when he left the tent, he couldn't see her.

"Boo!" she cried, leaping onto him from behind.

The little pendant was freezing cold against his neck. They tussled in the snow together, rolling and fighting, but neither of them could get the upper hand. Ginny tried hurling snow at him with magic, but she couldn't throw him off. When she'd effectively buried them, and was sweating with her exertions, she finally gave up and blew the snow off them.

Harry stared down at her flushed face.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm counting your freckles," Harry muttered. He really was, although he'd lost count when she asked.

She seemed to flush even deeper. "No, don't! They're ugly."

"No," he replied. "They're really not."

She struggled under him, honey-brown eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Stop."

"You're making me lose count," he complained. He traced a finger over her face, and he heard her breath catch. _'Twenty, twenty one, twenty two...'_ Her fingers grabbed at his hair, and she kissed him on the lips. Even in the freezing winter, her lips were warm as the summer sun. When she finally let go, her eyes were wide. "I lost count again." She giggled, and soon they were both laughing themselves silly.

"I-" Ginny began as they calmed down. "You're so great, Harry. You have no idea."

Harry was the one to blush this time.

Charlie went back inside, satisfied.


	7. 07 - Exeter Part 1

Harry was a touch nervous as the Portkey took them back to England, and not just because of the haunting voices that no one else could hear. They were having their trip to Exeter the day after tomorrow, and he didn't have a clue how they were getting there. They would be going the whole day without magic, and he still wasn't even sure that everyone had Muggle clothes. As soon as they hit the ground, he asked Mr. Weasley for a private word. Mum ushered everyone out of the magically enlarged cubicle. However, while she and everyone else went to sign off, Mr. Weasley and Harry headed towards the relatively empty area near the toilets.

"Yes, Harry?" he asked.

"Um, Mr. Weasley, I know this is a little last-minute, but I think we'll need some Muggle clothes if we're going to fit in when we all go to Exeter," he rushed out, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Ah, of course," Mr. Weasley said as he smiled. "I think we can get all we need in Diagon Alley."

That only made him even more nervous. He'd seen what wizards thought were Muggle clothes. They made you wonder if the Muggles had invented eyes. "Err, no offence, sir, but I think we ought to go a Muggle store instead."

"Oh, right. Looking to ease everyone into the Muggle world, are we?" Mr. Weasley grinned.

"Erm, yeah, something like that. Does that mean we can do it before we go back?"

"Of course we can, Harry. Did you bring enough of that Muggle money?"

"Yes, I think so," he said, almost sagging with relief. He was saved — the only problem left was the transport issue, but he could deal with that problem when it came. "Can we Apparate to Epsom, then? It's one of the only places I really know..."

Mr. Weasley didn't question Harry, and instead just led him over to the help desk, where he received Apparition coordinates for the car park near the cinema.

Money being an issue hadn't even occurred to him. When Mr. Weasley Apparated them to Gringotts to get some gold changed into sterling, he'd once again been overwhelmed by the amount of gold in his vault. He'd actually walked in, and walked all the way around the heap of galleons. It was taller than he, and he doubted his uncle's precious company car was nearly as big lengthways. Toppling a stack of galleons in the corner into a bag made no visual impact at all, and he'd decided to leave before he got reckless. When he'd gone to get the money exchanged, and received over a thousand pounds, he'd been literally floored.

He gave most of the money to Mr. Weasley for safekeeping, but he had two hundred pounds in his new wallet, just as a final 'screw-you' to the Dursleys. He didn't need to do anything else himself for revenge, since he knew that as soon as Ginny came of age, they'd be beyond wishing they hadn't been born.

They soon caught up with everyone else, waiting at the entrance to the Apparition zone. There was a notice above them warning of the silencing ward that was in effect.

"We aren't going straight home, Weasleys, " Mr. Weasley said in his usual, jovial tone. "Harry's taking us on a little detour. "

"Where are we going? " asked pretty much everyone.

"Epsom," said Harry.

"It's a Muggle town, " Mr. Weasley supplied.

"I swear we were going to Exeter," Ron frowned.

"We still are, Ron," said Mr. Weasley, "but Harry wants us all to get Muggle clothes."

Mrs Weasley frowned at him, but she didn't seem particularly disapproving. At least not after the first few seconds, for after that she only seemed to be confused.

"It'll help us fit in better," Harry explained. "We're probably going to draw attention to ourselves anyway, so anything we can do to not look suspicious will help. Think of it as my Christmas present to everyone."

She seemed to relax at this. Mr. Weasley shared the coordinates with her, and then they went to look for a free booth to Apparate from. Harry soon realised why there had been a warning sign. On crossing the threshold he was hit with a solid wall of noise. Ginny made a face at him.

"I've only been here once before," Ginny told him. He could barely hear her at all. "It was horrible then too."

"Could be worse," Harry shrugged.

She grinned at him. "Yeah, how?"

"We could be using another Portkey," Harry replied.

Ginny laughed. "The landings are horrid, I'll give you that."

Harry stopped and looked at her for a moment. _'She's going to think I'm mad. I can trust her, can't I?'_ "You... don't hear them?"

She stared at him. "Who?"

"The voices..." Harry wasn't sure how to describe it, and suddenly felt silly for trying. "What do you hear?"

Ginny shrugged, nonplussed. "The rushing wind, I suppose," she said. "I've never really paid any attention. Tell me what you hear."

"I never actually made out any words," Harry frowned. "But they were definitely there. They sounded... tired. I think they were in pain."

Ginny looked a little disturbed now. "Harry, do you think you're talking to the dead?"

"Is that possible?" he asked. That was not the response he'd been expecting. Something more along the lines of 'don't worry about it, it's probably just your mind playing tricks on you' was his first bet. Although, now that he thought about it, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, had been dead for centuries and yet Harry talked to him nearly every week.

Ginny gave him the appropriate look to make him feel three times as idiotic before pushing his shoulder. "Come on, we can ask Mum and Dad about it. No, let's ask Hermione. She loves having stuff to research."

"Maybe she loves it a little too much," Harry mused.

"I distract her when I can," Ginny smirked. "But I don't think it's a bad thing. You don't see me complaining about your weekly dances with death on that Nimbus, do you?"

"Hey, I know what I'm doing," Harry protested.

"No, you don't," Ginny laughed. "But you're pretty good, and I really doubt that you're going to top yourself on a broom."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just hurried to catch up with the others, who were waiting for them a little way ahead. Mrs Weasley didn't look happy.

"Didn't I warn you not to fall behind?" she asked. Rhetorically, of course - she gave them about half a second to answer. "Imagine if you'd gotten lost! What if we got to our Apparition point and you'd just been swept off in the crowd? Hmm?"

"I'm sorry, Mum," Ginny said, looking so very sorrowful and sincere. She didn't feel that way. At least, she didn't seem to, through their link.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley," he said. Truthfully, he hadn't meant to lag behind. But he knew Ginny could do whatever would need to be done if something did go wrong.

A lecture and five minutes later, Arthur Weasley and Harry Potter arrived in Epsom with a muffled crack. The sound of a car door slamming shut greeted Harry in his return to the Muggle world. He peered cautiously through the trees to see the little green Mazda reverse away from them, the woman behind the wheel never noticing the two people who had appeared out of thin air not fifteen metres in front of her.

"Stay here, Harry," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. "There's a notice-me-not charm over this area, so no one will ask you any funny questions."

With that, Mr. Weasley Apparated away, to be replaced almost immediately by Mrs Weasley with Ginny. No sooner had Ginny given him her customary grin than there was a faint 'pop' as Mrs Weasley span on the spot and disappeared. Looking carefully, Harry saw the faintest glow about her body as she turned. The light collapsed inwards as Mrs Weasley Disapparated, shrinking quickly away into nothing. Being curious, he waited for Mr. Weasley to appear again, this time with Ron. As the man Disapparated, he reached out to touch the light. He promptly recoiled, partly because of how shockingly cold the air was, but mainly because Mrs Weasley Apparated so close to the position Mr. Weasley had just occupied that Harry had to move quickly to avoid a very awkward situation.

As George followed Fred, Harry found himself confronted with yet another issue. Why was no one accidentally Apparating into anyone else? Harry leaned against a tree and waited for Percy to arrive. _'Too many questions - this must be something like how Hermione feels all the time.'_

"What's going on in there?" Ginny grinned. She reached up and rapped on his forehead.

Shaken out of his reverie, Harry gave her a blank look. "Sorry?"

"You've been acting weird since we got here," she told him. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," Harry replied reflexively.

"Really?" she pressed. A cracking noise accompanied Mrs Weasley and Percy as they displaced the air in the apparition zone.

"Yeah, just curious about your teleporting, that's all," Harry replied.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Apparating, Harry."

"Yeah, that," he grinned. "How come you don't Apparate into each other?"

"It happens," Ginny shrugged. Harry stared at her. "What? The ministry can tell when it happens, and St. Mungo's can fix it."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry asked.

"Wizarding hospital, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "Try not to get sent there, but if you need medical help there is no finer place."

Truth be told, Harry had barely given a thought to magical medicine since that healing ritual with Madam Pomfrey. Now that he thought about it, she'd mentioned something about meeting with her teacher afterwards. "Do wizard doctors train there, Mr. Weasley?"

"They're called healers," Mr. Weasley clarified. "I think they would finish their training there at least."

"We had best get going," Mrs Weasley said. "It'll be dark soon."

She wasn't wrong. As they left the car park, the sky was already turning purple.

A train rolled by on the bridge overhead. A red balloon drifted, forgotten, over the roofline. A group of small children giggled as they chased each other down the broad pavement.

Harry stopped in the middle of the high street, suddenly overwhelmed. The last time he had been here, one of Aunt Marge's hounds had chased him down an alley all the way to the Ashley Centre, where he'd evaded his pursuer by way of a lift. Yet now that he was here with the Weasleys, he got a feeling like nothing could touch him.

"This is a bit bigger than Diagon Alley," Ron commented idly.

"A bit bigger, he says," Fred grinned. "Fred, how many Muggles did you say there were?" Okay, so maybe that's George.

"Millions, George, millions," Fred said.

"Billions, actually," interjected Percy.

"I do apologise most profusely, your esteemed prefect-ship," George smirked.

"Billions, Ronniekins," Fred said breathlessly. "That's even more than millions!"

"Oh shut up," Ron snapped.

"Fred, George, if you don't stop now you won't be coming into the city tomorrow," Mrs Weasley warned. They shut up pretty quick after that.

It turned out that they all already knew how to cross roads safely, so it wasn't long before they were at the automatic doors into the Ashley Centre. They'd drawn a few stares so far, walking down a Muggle high street in their thick winter robes, but the town centre wasn't particularly busy this afternoon. This would be the gauntlet though – he could tell by the way Mr. Weasley's face lit up, watching the glass doors slide open in advance of a couple who definitely weren't paying it any mind.

"It's amazing," Mr. Weasley started, grinning ear to ear.

"Hush, Arthur," Mrs Weasley said, "we don't want to draw attention."

"Of course," he replied morosely. Surprisingly smooth.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry. "So, where to, Harry?"

"H&M," Harry replied. "It's somewhere further in, I think."

That first obstacle now passed, Harry started to wonder how they'd handle things in the store.

"Maybe a notice-me-not charm, Dad?" Ginny whispered, reading him perfectly.

"You can do that?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley gave the twins a significant look. "Yes, but it would be difficult for us to notice each other. Besides, if I tried to charm us as a group, I wouldn't be able to keep it up for very long." The two mischief makers grinned at each other.

"We might as well split up," Molly said. "I'll take Ginny, Fred and George."

"But Mum, Harry needs to tell us if we look okay," Ginny protested. Harry grinned at her, and she suck her tongue out at him. Mrs Weasley didn't see that, of course.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," Mrs Weasley smiled, squeezing Ginny's cheek. She muttered something under her breath, and must have been concealing her wand under her robes because Harry was finding it very difficult to concentrate on... something. If only he could remember what it... _Ginny._ Suddenly, Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Fred and George all snapped back into focus.

"Molly," Mr. Weasley said, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" she asked, nonplussed. Harry and Ginny exchanged looks. Somehow, Harry knew they were responsible.

"The charm collapsed," Mr. Weasley replied, walking closer so they wouldn't be overheard.

Ginny wandered over to Harry while the adults worried. "What was that about?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Harry replied. "Do you think–"

"Probably," Ginny grinned. "Wonder what else we can do?"

"You mean how much more of a nuisance we can make," Harry snorted.

In the end, they went ahead without concealment charms. Mrs Weasley seemed a little jittery, but apart from that, there was no further incident. Considering how easy things had been up until then, Harry almost expected everyone to figure out how to go Muggle all on their own. As it turned out, he was half right.

After Harry pointed out where the changing rooms were, and explained that the clothes were made to standard sizes, Percy went straight off on his own. After a short debate, Ginny and Mrs Weasley went to sort themselves out too, claiming that they could figure it out for themselves. Harry felt secretly relieved. He had no idea how to help them choose. The last time he'd been with the Dursleys when they were clothes shopping, the trip had been extended by a good half an hour because of various arguments Aunt Petunia got into with shop assistants. It might have been a fond memory, to spend time outside the house watching one of his tormentors getting stressed and venting impotently at random people, except that Uncle Vernon wouldn't let him put any of their bags down.

"After you," Mr. Weasley smiled. Harry nodded, suddenly feeling a little nervous. He led them through footwear, children's wear and menswear, trying to give them as much freedom as he could. He could be happy that the Weasleys were familiar with the apparently very Muggle idea of underwear. On the other hand, Mr. Weasley seemed hell-bent on breaking their cover. He nearly burst at the seams when he saw someone using a mobile telephone.

They ran into Percy in the menswear section. He was perusing the suits.

"Percy," Mr. Weasley ventured, "we're going for a day out in the city. You won't need something so formal."

"Yeah Perce," George said. "Pleasure, not business."

Percy sniffed. "I am..."

"Percy, you're a prefect all the time at school," Harry said. "That's not going to disappear because you enjoyed your holiday."

Mrs Weasley and Ginny appeared suddenly, through the racks of clothing to Percy's other side.

"They chose James Potter for head boy back in the seventies," Ginny said quietly, so that the older guy a few metres away wouldn't hear. "From what I've read, he was more like George than you, Percy, and Bill never took it that seriously either."

Percy looked almost betrayed. "This is not about my aspirations for the future," he claimed. "I would simply feel more comfortable in..."

"Percy, _we_ would all be more comfortable in our winter robes," Mr. Weasley said firmly. "This is about fitting in. Please make an effort to."

"Yes, father," Percy said, defeated. He returned the items he had already selected to their prior places, and looked to the more casual clothing.

"So, uh, Mrs Weasley, did you manage alright?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes, dear, thank you," Mrs Weasley replied. "We haven't any Muggle shoes though, did you find where they keep them?"

"Yes, it's back that way," Harry replied, pointing out the signs.

"So, any thoughts, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

* * *

It was pitch black outside when they Apparated back to the Burrow. Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at each of the lights in turn, keeping it trained on them for several seconds after they lit up. Fred, George, Percy and Mr. Weasley all headed upstairs, but Harry didn't follow just yet as he was puzzling over Mrs Weasley's actions.

"She's charging them," Ginny explained, seeing his confusion. "They're rune stones. Mum's got to charge them for them to stay lit."

"Doesn't Hogwarts use candles?" Harry asked.

"That is really a delightful bit of enchantment," Mrs Weasley smiled. "The runes channel Hogwarts's ambient energy into replenishing charms that keep the candles from running out of wax, so one quick _Incendio_ could keep one of them lit forever."

" _Incendio_?" Harry asked.

"Oh of course, you haven't learned it just yet," Mrs Weasley said apologetically. "It's a basic Fire Charm."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry said.

"You're welcome," Mrs Weasley replied. "I'm sure you're still enjoying _Wingardium Leviosa_ ."

Harry and Ron exchanged significant looks, although Mrs Weasley didn't seem to notice. She soon finished and headed to the kitchen, scolding them to stop dawdling.

"Well, I'm going to go see what these clothes feel like," Ron said finally.

"Yeah," Ginny said, moving to follow him up. "Come on, Harry, I want to show you what I got."

Truthfully, Harry hadn't checked on the clothes that Ginny and Mrs Weasley had bought. Partly because he knew that Ginny, and probably Mrs Weasley too, would have a good handle on things, but mainly because he was way too embarrassed to ask.

He blushed bright red. "Uh, you sure? I could, you know, go change in my room and come see after, or something." That prospect excited him more than he would say. Apart from his school robes, he couldn't remember ever having clothes that fit him, let alone that were his own.

"But Harry, I've never worn Muggle clothes before," Ginny said slowly. "I might need your help."

He looked around desperately, but Mrs Weasley was out of sight in the kitchen, and even Ron had buggered off.

She started laughing uproariously. "The look ... on your ... face ... is priceless," she gasped.

Harry glared at her, stalking past her to take cover in his room. He wasn't about to tell her, but he'd been having the strangest... bodily malfunctions lately. Half the time he was pretty sure what was behind it, and then it would start happening completely randomly and suddenly he had no clue. Well, it had started now, and he let out a shuddering sigh of relief as he shut the door behind him. He wasn't sure why, but he felt ... ashamed about it.

He undressed delicately, as he always did with his Hogwarts robes. For one thing, they were such strange affairs that he was liable to simply get himself stuck if he rushed. But like his wand and his books, he didn't want to damage them. Not only were they a precious link to the magical world, but they were the first things he'd really had to call his own. Opening Bill's old wardrobe to use the mirror on the inside of the door, Harry looked at himself properly for the first time for a long time. Maybe it was the first time ever. The healing ritual had certainly done its job — he couldn't see a trace of the Dursleys' affections. He definitely couldn't count his ribs in the mirror, so he had put on weight. Flexing, he grinned at the response his body gave him. Harry got a sudden, mad urge to fly back to Little Whinging and give Dudley and his gang a proper seeing to.

His scar twinged.

* * *

He woke up smiling softly. He'd had the most amazing dream...

Splash!

He fell out of bed, spluttering and coughing. It was a few seconds before he recovered enough to look up. Ginny was standing in the doorway, clutching the frame and laughing her eyes out. A bucket fell with a crash beside him.

As they recovered their breath, she asked in her innocent little voice, "Good night's sleep, Harry?"

He growled and leapt to his feet, surprising even himself with the fluidity with which he switched from prone to full charge. Her eyes went wide with fear and excitement; she bolted from the room, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away. Harry gave chase with the practised ease of a boy who'd spent almost his whole life running. He skipped three stairs at a time without a single stumble or hesitation, and was inches away from being within reach.

They burst out of the back door and flew past the chicken coops. Her shrieks rang out in the cold, clear morning as they crunched over frost, relishing the fresh breeze as they cut through the winter air. They'd almost reached the trees when Harry, still leaving a thin trail of flying water droplets in his wake, executed a perfect dive to bring her to the ground. He began tickling her, delighting in his revenge.

"No," she giggled. "Harry!"

Her giggles alerted him to the fact that he was malfunctioning again. He lurched backwards so she wouldn't notice. Water dripped down from his hair into his eyes, and he shook himself trying to get rid of it.

"Aah! Harry, you're soaking me!"

"Your own bloody fault," he grinned.

She pounced on him, and a piece of snow smacked him in the face from over her shoulder. "Hey, I was doing you a favour."

Harry didn't have the breath to respond, so he just gave her an incredulous look.

"I got you up in time for the trip today," she said, like it was so obvious.

"I was already awake!" Harry exclaimed.

"You were still in bed, doesn't count," Ginny sniffed. Another chunk of snow hit him in the back of the head, and she giggled at him.

"You..." Harry didn't even have words anymore. Ginny laughed outright, and ran off into the trees. _'Well, it's not like we're doing anything else, today, right?'_ he thought sarcastically as he gave chase.

A couple of minutes later, Harry realised that he couldn't hear her laughter anymore. All he heard was the sound of rushing water. He followed that, and found a stream running through the woods. It was clear as glass, and Harry saw little fish swimming around in the shallow waters.

"Nobody else ever comes here." He got a clearer lock on where she was, and wondered why he hadn't sensed her before. She was sitting up in a large oak tree, and Harry noticed that there was a box or crate of some sort tucked away in the tree's hollow.

"It's nice," Harry said. "Peaceful."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I've been coming here since I was five; eventually got tired of Mum being so protective."

She hopped down from the branch she was on to the one just below it. Harry goggled at the grace of her movements — she'd clearly done this many times before. When she got to the lowest branch, she dropped down and landed crouched, with one hand on the ground before her to steady her.

"Wow."

Ginny blushed at his praise.

"So what do you get up to here, apart from treat the wildlife to acrobatics shows?" Harry asked.

"And what kind of wildlife are you, Harry?" she deflected, smiling.

"Hmm..." Harry considered it seriously. He imagined himself as a bird, but he didn't think it really suited him. Half of the fun of flying was wrestling with his broom. He certainly couldn't see himself as a fish. Being constrained to the water wasn't very appealing. The answer came to him, and he smirked at her. "I'm a wolf, Ginny," he told her, advancing on her. "And I've got your scent."

She laughed. "Oh, somebody please help me!" she cried in mock-fear. "This terrible wolf has me trapped!"

"Oh dear," Harry said ominously. "Nobody's around."

He launched himself at her, but she disappeared right from under his nose.

"Tsk tsk tsk, too slow Harry," Ginny taunted. He rolled and threw himself at her but again she was too fast, ducking and rolling neatly between his legs as he strode towards her.

"How...?" Harry asked, bewildered. She shrugged at him. Harry crouched again, and feinted a dash towards her. She did a perfect forward flip over where he would have been, and landed neatly in his arms.

"Oh, no fair," she pouted. A drop of rainwater hit her on the nose, and she flinched, scrunching up her face.

"You're so pretty," Harry said admiringly. She blushed brightly.

"Daphne's pretty," she said, watching the stream flowing behind him. "Lavender's pretty. The Patils are really..."

"Then you're beautiful," Harry pressed.

She looked up at him. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Making me feel... I don't know," she buried her face in his neck. It clicked with him that Harry hadn't ever noticed the other guys in his year talking to girls like he did to Ginny. He'd always felt that he was just telling her what he was thinking. Sure he was surprised that he had the courage to do it, but he'd assumed that he had _been_ the odd one out, not that he was _becoming_ the odd one out. Seamus talked about girls a hell of a lot, but Harry had never seen him say or do even half of the things he said he did. At this point, he was pretty sure that Seamus was full of crap.

"Ginny," Harry said, putting her at arm's length. "I don't lie to you."

"I..."

"No, I mean it," Harry interrupted, getting a little frustrated. _'Why can't she just understand?'_ "When I tell you I like your freckles, or your hair or your eyes... it's not just because I want to make you happy. You're better with people than anyone I know, so how have you not noticed the way Dean looks at you?" To be fair, he'd only seen Dean look at her that way once. It had been at Platform 9¾, on the way back from Hogwarts. He tried not to think about it, because it gave him an uncomfortable new feeling. Like something was growling inside of him.

"Huh?"

Harry tugged at his hair. "Y-"

"You... really do mean it, don't you?" Ginny asked timidly.

Harry let out his breath like a balloon had just been pricked in his chest. "Ginny, of course I mean it," he said. "What did you think?"

"I don't know," Ginny grinned. "Maybe I have a really ugly boil somewhere that you can't stop staring at."

"I don't think there's a boil brave enough," Harry laughed.

Ginny giggled. "I'll remember that next time Neville has an accident in Potions, I can save him the pain." Their friend's clumsiness, especially in the potions laboratory, had become something of a running joke for the other houses.

Harry kissed her on the cheek. Another raindrop hit Ginny on the nose, and she scrunched it up again. He watched as it rolled down her pale skin before bulging heavily at the tip of her nose. She scrunched up her whole face and reached up to rub it away, but Harry blocked her. He watched as it slowly, almost reluctantly, fell away.

"I don't lie to you," Harry said earnestly. He knew that she was the one person that he wouldn't — _couldn't_ — lie to.

* * *

Breakfast was quieter than usual that morning. The excitement was radiating from Ron and his father. Everyone was looking forward to the venture into the Muggle world, although Percy was looking a lot calmer about it, and Mrs Weasley was her usual worried self. She had almost started to object to them going last night, after considering the 'dangerous' chances of someone getting lost. One look at Harry seemed to stop her, though.

Ron seemed of two minds whether to eat lots because he didn't know what he'd be having for lunch, or not to eat much so that he'd have more room for all the Muggle food. In his strange state of contemplation, he absently finished plate after plate of eggs and bacon. Harry barely ate anything. This was his chance to impress his new family. It was only Ginny's hand in his under the table that kept him from sprinting up to the bathroom and bolting himself in.

It was seven o'clock when everyone headed upstairs to dress up in their new Muggle clothes. Harry did sprint at this point, but not out of nerves. Apart from the hand-me-downs from Ron, he'd never had any clothes that fit him. He grinned as he pulled on the black tracksuit bottoms and an off-white Nike t-shirt with the signature big tick in black. He carefully pulled on the astro turf trainers, and finally understood how running shoes were meant to feel. They felt comfortably tight, and while it would be a considerable exaggeration to say they were like a second skin, they were most definitely under his control. He grabbed a longish winter coat, then, feeling like he'd just swallowed a bagful of sugar he dashed across the hall and knocked loudly on Ginny's door.

"I'm not done yet!" she called from inside, giggling. "Go check on dad. He's probably staring at those sunglasses again."

He laughed as he ran upstairs. Percy opened his door as he reached the second landing. He was wearing a white polo shirt with beige slacks and a brown belt. It was funny how the look suited him. Percy smiled weakly. He knew what the look meant by now. It was the 'I'm out of my depth and don't like it, but I don't want Fred and George to know' look. He grinned and put his thumbs up. Percy's smile became a little more confident and he stood a little straighter. At least the pole up his arse wasn't too visible.

Fred was, as expected, holding jeans over George's head with a Sticking Charm. Harry ducked as George unleashed some kind of shockwave with his wand, and undid the charm.

"Fred, you know I'll always be your better with a wand."

"Yeah, but I'll always be better with the girls."

"I'll tell Angie you said that," George said with a smirk. It broadened when Fred paled slightly.

"Bit below the belt, wasn't it?" Fred spluttered.

George gaped, pointing at the jeans. "That was terrible, bro. You're losing your touch."

"Hate to interrupt guys, but jeans are meant to be worn over your boxers, not over your eyes. See you!" Harry laughed as he ran up the stairs towards the master bedroom, which he decided to leave till last, then he reached Ron's room. He sniggered for what must have been the millionth time at the sign on the door (Ronald's Room), before knocking.

"Harry?" Ron called.

"Yeah," he said back, through the door. "How'd you know?"

"Dunno, I just guessed I suppose. Come in, mate — what're you doing?" he replied, confusion evident in his voice.

"I'm avoiding seeing you starkers, Ron. I have a hard enough time at Hogwarts," he said as he entered.

"These feel kind of weird, Harry. A little scratchy, and they're not too tight, but... How does Dean deal with it?" he asked, frowning. He'd decided to get jeans because he'd seen Dean wearing them on weekends — the only time Hogwarts allowed them to wear what they liked.

"No idea, mate. Try to walk it off," Harry suggested. "I really hope Dad doesn't give us away, I mean it went okay in Epsom but..." He gazed off into space as he considered everything that could go wrong for the twenty-ninth time, but was brought sharply back to reality as he noticed the odd look on his friend's face.

"You know, Harry..." he said speculatively. "That's the first time you've called him Dad properly — at least in front of me."

He shrugged. "I dunno. You guys feel like family, you know, you've been really great." He blushed. "I guess I've started thinking of you like that."

Ron looked at him for a few seconds, then grabbed him in a brief hug. "Welcome to the family, mate," he grinned.

Harry grinned back. There had once been a time when he'd sat in a cupboard wishing there was one person who cared about him. If someone tried to lock him up again, there'd be a small army coming to break him out. He realised that he genuinely didn't want revenge. He didn't want to be reminded. He prized his new life too much, from the wonders of magic to the look in Ginny's eyes when she looked at him.

"Yeah, thanks Ron," he breathed, his grin stretching his face almost painfully. "Now let's figure out where to hide our wands..."

Ten minutes later, they were all gathered outside the front door. Nobody was moving, all waiting for someone else to make the first move. Or rather, everyone automatically expected Harry to take the lead in this... expedition into the Muggle world.

"Oh, sod it," Fred said, stepping forth.

"We haven't got all our lives — when did you say the bus was, Harry?" George asked.

The tension broken, everyone began to walk onwards down the long path into the village. They were greeted with friendly smiles from the people they saw, and Harry soon felt a lot less nervous. The bus stop was in the middle of an incline, where they ended up waiting outside a butcher's.

Mr. Weasley checked his watch. "Well, it's 7:40 now."

Harry checked the timetable. "Oh... we missed the last one." Fred and George groaned dramatically. "Before you start, the next one is in eight minutes."

They passed the time with idle chatter, watching the village wake up as the sky brightened to a crisp blue.

"So this is how all Muggles travel, then?" Ron asked.

"Of course, Ronald — they call it public transport," Percy replied.

Fred's flippant remark was cut off by his father. "There it is," Dad announced. "I do hope it's more comfortable than the Knight Bus."

Harry turned to Ginny, who shrugged. **_'I've never been on it, personally. All I know is that it's purple, fast and has three floors.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Well, wizards aren't really known for being conservative, are they?'_** he grinned.

She smiled back, laughing in the bond. The bus was pulling in, and Harry suddenly realised he'd forgotten to mention the fare. Quickly sliding pound coins into his hand, he gave up, pulled a twenty and put it in Dad's hand just as the door opened. Luckily, the driver seemed to have not noticed, and soon they all had tickets and were finding seats.

 ** _'_** ** _This is so weird...'_** Ginny thought as she sat next to Harry in the bus.

 ** _'_** ** _I still prefer it to Apparition or Portkey,'_** Harry sighed. He was completely comfortable on this single-decker 380. Well, apart from his continuing bodily malfunctions. Maybe Madam Pomfrey could explain it to him. Everyone said that she kept confidentiality, and there certainly hadn't been any rumours about the ritual.

 ** _'_** ** _It's less uncomfortable when you Apparate yourself, but I see your point about Portkeys. Still, this is a lot slower,'_** she said. Keeping to telepathy for these topics was essential. They couldn't risk the six Muggle passengers or the driver hearing about magic.

 ** _'_** ** _Well, you haven't been on a Muggle train yet. Besides, Apparating is near instant — what can be as fast as that?'_** he reasoned. It wasn't that he resented magic being faster. He just really hated the fact that all forms of magical transport seemed to want to hurt you.

 ** _'_** ** _I never said all this wasn't brilliant. The thing is, Wizarding Britain is so widespread, it's unrealistic to travel the Muggle way. We'd spend the whole day trying to get to a friend's house,'_** she explained.

 ** _'_** ** _Maybe we can use magic to make trains faster...'_** Harry wondered.

 ** _'_** ** _Well, I don't know. I think Bill said your Nimbus was a little faster than the Hogwarts Express, but that's about the limit for magic making things fly.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Really? We can pop up anywhere in the world with magic, but we can't break the sound barrier with it?'_** he exclaimed, astonished.

 ** _'_** ** _What's a sound barrier?'_** she enquired.

 ** _'_** ** _The speed of sound? Three hundred thirty metres a second? You really don't know?'_** he asked, disbelieving.

 ** _'_** ** _Haven't a clue, but I know that that is stupidly fast. Muggles can do that?'_**

Harry snorted, drawing a few odd looks from Ron, Percy and their mother. **_'Muggles can do way better than that.'_**

She gaped at him. ** _'Tell me you're joking.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Hermione's going to be so upset she missed this.'_** He smirked at her. **_'Wait till I tell you about the space shuttle.'_**

Her eyes went wide. She'd heard (mainly from her father) that they were clever in their own way, but this would be a ridiculous show of ignorance by the magical community. ** _''_** **Space** ** _shuttle? As in astronomy space? Above the sky space?'_**

He grinned. He was going to have so much fun just watching her face!

* * *

They got off the bus twenty minutes later in the middle of the Exeter City Centre. Mum looked quite thoughtful, gazing back at the bus as it rolled into the depot. Harry turned and smiled. They'd managed to find a spot with a little privacy, just behind the shelter.

"We've got all the time in the world. So we can see a movie, go to have a paintball fight... anything, really."

"What's a paintball fight?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, I've never been in one myself, but they give you this sort of bodysuit, and a paintball gun, which shoots these jelly balls full of paint." He grinned when Fred and George looked to each other, and nodded, identical smiles forming on their faces.

"Sounds like great fun, Harry..."

"But what is a gun?" George finished.

He frowned slightly. Wizards were really badly informed. "Normal guns are basically death machines. They use metal bullets, and they fire them a lot, lot faster than paintballs," he grimaced. "These guns aren't like that, though. The paintballs go a lot slower and they're jelly, not metal, and you get a protective suit with a faceguard and everything. Nobody ever gets more than a bruise. It's a lot safer than Quidditch, actually."

" _Normal_ guns? These Muggles are mad!" Mum breathed.

"I wouldn't be so hard, Molly. Wizards aren't so much better. At least the Muggles are getting rid of racism," Mr. Weasley pacified.

She seemed to droop a little. "The whole world is hopeless," she muttered dejectedly. Dad put an arm around her, while all the Weasley children stared.

"Not really. Have you heard about how the Muggles went to the moon?" Ginny grinned.

In the end, half of the time before lunch was spent with Harry simply doing his best to explain the Muggle world. He would have given half the gold in his vault for Hermione to be here. He took them all to the nearest shopping centre, showing them the Muggle technology as he told them about it. Personal computers, large-screen television sets... They were mesmerised. And a little offended when he asked Mr. Weasley if he could buy them a TV and VCR set.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but we can't accept this!" Mum hissed.

"Please, Mum! I'm part of the family now, and there probably won't be time for us to go to the cinema now anyway. At least if we want to go paintballing. I wanted to bring the movies to the Burrow. It's not charity, because I'm buying it for myself as much as anything else," he pleaded. Ron looked a little disconcerted, while Ginny gave him an encouraging look. "I would have given everything in that vault ten times over for a family to care for me. You guys are everything I dreamed of and more. Please."

A little tear ran from the corner of her eye. Fred and George gave each other significant looks. "I... This still isn't right. Oh, go on then. But never again, Harry. And you are going to be carrying it back without magic, young man!"

"Mother!" Percy gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she remained silent.

"Okay, Harry, let me count the money. How much is it?"

"Two hundred," Harry said, suddenly reluctant.

"Fifty, a hundred, one fifty, two hundred. It's quite simple, really, isn't it?" Dad asked with a big smile on his face.

"Yeah," he replied absently. Ginny slipped her hand into his as Percy and Ron went off with Mum to look at something or other.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I'm actually really surprised she let you at all. She really has got a soft spot for you."

Harry smiled. If anything would make things seem better, it would be Ginny's reassurance. "Like yours?" he teased.

She stepped a little closer, and he gulped. "No one will ever have a soft spot for you like mine," she whispered, a small smirk on her face. His breath caught in his throat as she leaned up. They hadn't kissed in such a public place since their first one. Their parents were going to have a fit.


	8. 08 - Exeter Part 2

Harry was grinning as they all stood waiting. Mum had been in a bit of a huff when she realised that the Muggles did a delivery service, and that Harry had escaped carrying the TV set home without magic. The wards around the Burrow would prevent a home delivery, but Harry now only needed to bring it from the local Post Office. That hadn't stopped her coming to join in the paintball fight though, to 'watch her children's backs'. He rather suspected that the adults had played outside the rules a bit. He was pretty sure Dudley's tenth birthday had needed some advance booking, and that had been a paintball party, hadn't it? As it was, the eight of them and seventeen strangers were standing behind a rope tied between some trees.

He wondered what they'd do once they were done here. They couldn't go to the cinema now, but he'd definitely be taking them to the nearest video store. He really needed to find out what was so bloody amazing about Star Wars. He'd be picking up a couple of Bond films, too... Cash certainly wouldn't be a problem. Even food hadn't hurt his pocket, and considering Ron's appetite, that was saying something. Turning to look at his best friend, who was staring down the barrel of his own gun, a little snicker leaked out. He was punched lightly on the shoulder, and focused down to the mask which covered his girlfriend's face.

"Not laughing at me, are you, Potter?" she asked in a muffled hiss.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Look at your brother," he replied.

"Which one?" she said, looking around, before her gaze landed on Ron. She shook her head in exasperation.

"I need to say?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"I guess not," she smirked. "Can you see properly out of your helmet?"

"Yeah, but it's starting to mist up," he frowned. _'Would Mum and Dad break the no-magic rule to clean them?'_ he wondered. He checked the shell-like container of ammo he'd brought. They were going to have to be pretty trigger-happy to use up two thousand paintballs each today. But then, Fred and George had fully automatic assault rifles.

"Okay, you're trying to get the flag you saw earlier," the marshal said. "Be warned that you're going to be completely open once you've gone for it. You need to get it behind this line. If it hasn't been brought to either base before a quarter of an hour, whoever had the flag gets four points instead of ten. We have two hit kills here, but headshots don't count, remember that. If you haven't got ammo to waste, be ready to do some serious ducking and diving. Now everyone _behind_ the line..."

There was a bit of shuffling, but he knew without looking that the twins wouldn't have stuck to the rules for Cleansweep Sevens. He tensed instinctively as he heard some distant yelling from the other team. Then he looked at Ginny and smirked. She was fingering the trigger of her AK-47 replica almost lovingly. He was quite thankful they were on the same team.

"Red team, are you ready?" came the call.

"YEAH!" they cried deafeningly. The marshal fired a blank in the direction of the others, and there was an answering shot. "3... 2... 1... GAME ON!"

Harry laughed out loud as he ran forwards, his rifle raised to the sky. His mask was getting a little frustrating since it was forcing his glasses lower than he would have wanted, but that wasn't going to spoil this for him. The wall loomed closer, and he dived for cover behind one of the little wooden obstacles on the ground. Well, loomed was the wrong word. It wasn't all that big, but standing in that one-metre passageway he would be easy pickings. He stuck his barrel out through the gap in the middle of his wooden shield, and watched for the blue team. The flag was clearly visible, hanging from the ceiling of the open walkway, and he waited as he heard his team-mates finding their own sniping spots behind him, or crawling into the under-passages beneath the wall on either side.

A shot flew to the side of his cover, and he cursed. He couldn't see where the shot had come from, and realised that the misting on the visor was hurting him more than he'd guessed. The worst part of it was that he couldn't take the thing off to clean the insides, since he'd be barred for the safety violation. He pulled the trigger on his gun, spraying a wide cone of paintballs through the walkway, even though his gun was kept steadily aimed down the middle.

 _'_ _Oh well, at least I'm more likely to get someone than trying to see through all this,'_ he thought as he raised his left hand to wipe his visor. It was a big mistake. Someone obviously saw the motion, because almost instantly, four paintballs were zipping towards him. One hit the wooden barrier above him. Another deflected off the side of his helmet. Another burst open on his shoulder. The final one burst on his gun. He had two lives, and he'd just lost one for nothing!

He ducked, and turned to see someone, he couldn't tell who, make a run for it and get shot down. Two heads popped out from either side of some close-growing trees at identical angles, and shook sadly. Harry grinned as they quickly whipped their heads away from more paintballs, despite the 'no-headshots' rule that protected them.

Just then, something flew over his head from his own side, and landed just on the other side of the walkway. There were a few exclamations from the opposing team as pink-purple gas spewed from the smoke grenade. He charged and, blinded as he was by sweat and condensation, lost his footing over a dip in the ground and landed on his arse in some mud. Scowling, he picked himself up and started running again. He needed to get to the flag before the other side recovered! However, he was having a difficult enough time keeping control over his feet, as they continually found interesting patches of branches and mud to slip and trip in. He heard Ron mutter something right behind him, and was grateful that his friend was covering his back.

Then he noticed someone else dart in front of him, headed for the flag. He raised his gun to provide cover fire when whoever it was dived to the side. Assuming that the person was being fired upon, he levelled the rifle and began his total bombardment of the enemy area. Then he felt something that caused him alarm. He wasn't sure what it was or why it disturbed him, but there was something in front of him, and he just had to run! He turned, but it was too late.

BANG!

He felt the paint slam into his back, and yelled his frustration. He'd been so close. The throw had been perfect, and he'd screwed up! _'I must look like an idiot,'_ he groaned to himself. He raised his left hand, put on the safety on his gun, and switched to its fore-grip.

* * *

The next arena contained a pyramid. It was clearly a smaller arena than the previous one, but the pyramid was quite large. It stood at least ten metres tall. There was a helmeted log held within that was supposed to be fought over. The Weasleys' team was assaulting the pyramid in the first round. They'd called the makeshift dummy 'Malfoy'. They won through a lucky combination of a well-placed grenade and Fred and George's epic suicide run. It was even funnier to watch Ron pummel the dummy with paintballs before giving it a good kick.

The second round hadn't been so good. Harry's, and almost everyone else's, visors were completely screwed at this point, and they couldn't see further than their own noses. They never stood a chance. With eight of the team out of the running before they'd begun, their Muggle allies had made a brave effort, but in the end were slaughtered mercilessly. The fact that only one of them had an automatic rifle now must have had some effect on this, too.

As they walked back to the safe zone, the twins asked some of the Muggles how they managed to see through their helmets. They gave them a funny look.

"This your first time, then?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, it's ridiculous. I can't even see your face!" Fred exclaimed.

"Well, they give you these kits that stop the visor misting up," one of the girls replied. "They're only 50p."

"Oh. Thanks..." George said slowly.

Fred dragged him away, giving the girl an apologetic look he wasn't entirely sure she could see.

"What was that for?" he whispered.

"Brother mine, if you'd shown ignorance of Muggle money back there, we would've been done for. We are going to be standing with these people for the rest of the day," he said seriously. George gaped at him. This was so unlike him it was ridiculous. "Besides, I know all of your lines, and the only one that's any good would _not_ work with any kind of helmet on!"

"Bloody git! But you'd have loved to watch that," his curiosity was piqued, and his twin was keeping their link firmly shut from his end.

"I would, but that can wait — we've barely even started here!"

George grinned. That was his brother alright. Maybe he _would_ nick one of Fred's lines. It wasn't as if they were even his. He'd just used them first. _'Dick.'_

* * *

"How are you meant to use two at once? I can barely lift this damn thing with one hand, and my left hand can't do squat," she complained. They were up to their fourth map, the last one before lunch - team deathmatch.

"It's a sidearm. You use the rifle, and switch when you run out of ammo," he answered. He was really quite pleased with himself for being able to handle the automatic with one hand. _'Must be all the Quidditch,'_ he mused. _'Handling that Nimbus must be harder on the wrists than I'd thought.'_

"But you're using two, so it'll be easier for you," she nearly whined.

"I'll cover you, then." He saw through her visor for a couple of seconds, and the glare she was giving him was truly chilling. "Or not..."

The whistle blew.

Fred and George immediately charged for the nearest bit of cover, although they weren't alone. A girl they'd been talking to earlier was between them. Mum and Dad hid behind trees further forwards, Mum with a strange gleam in her eye, and Dad still handled the gun with a sort of hesitant reverence. Ron started crawling forwards on his hands and knees, while Percy walked slowly forwards next to him. Harry and Ginny, however, noticed none of this.

Harry followed four paces behind Ginny as she rocketed towards the halfway point. As the barrels came into sight, so did the first of their opponents, and the first shots. Ginny squeezed the trigger, using her left hand to swing the gun round with deadly accuracy. Not that the paintballs themselves were following their intended trajectory, but the sheer number of rounds she was letting loose made up for that. Harry dived for cover among the barrels as she took down one, two, three grown men as they were splattered with red paint. A lot of trees were getting heavily marked, too, but they had bought a _lot_ of paintballs.

He raised his gun, and brought it back down just as a blue ball of gelatine soared overhead. The triggers felt like a part of his fingers as he tested their weight. He grinned as he tensed his legs, then pushed up into the air, ready to fire blind. It would take too long to search out a mark, so he'd go with his feelings. He didn't notice how weird his vision was becoming. He automatically attributed it to the misting, but that simply wasn't it. He could almost _sense_ where everything was. It was a bit like when he sensed Ginny, but stronger and clearer. He let out a stream of fire from the rifle with a couple of additional shots from his pistol, and felt each of the seventeen fluid bullets smash into their mark. He looked up and was astonished to see someone fall with their entire chest turned from black to a deep blood red. Then he had to dodge a couple of paintballs again as he hit the ground. He crept back towards everyone else, the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

"Hey, Ron!" he hissed loudly.

"Yeah?" Ron called back, rolling to avoid a paintball, which splattered in the roots of the tree next to him.

"Tell Fred and George to cover me," he yelled. Then, he turned to begin his assault. Each team had twenty-five. The non-Weasleys on their team were trying to flank the others, but from the racket coming either side of him, the other team had had a similar idea. "You and Percy go help out the others." He pointed either side of him with his guns even as he charged towards Ginny, who was being forced to do some pretty incredible acrobatics by the streams of paintballs headed towards her.

Harry felt the danger as a sort of alarming... something. He turned his left hand and fired, then looked. The first thing he noticed was the way that everything around him was only creeping by. It was disconcerting. Then he saw the paintball he'd fired. It was flying toward Ginny. He shouted a warning, and suddenly time snapped back to normality. She ducked, and his red paintball smashed into an orange one from the opposition. The guy who'd fired it was just staring dumbly at the point where his paintball had been shot down in mid-air. Harry finished him with a few quick bursts fired from his automatic. They all whacked him in the chest, and he fell backward from the impact.

He could feel Ginny's fury, and her mortifying embarrassment. It actually hurt him, like imaginary boxing gloves were pummelling him. He dived past her to some cover, wanting to end this quickly. Harry sniped two blue team members out of the game before he was compromised. Diving out from behind the tree, he fired both guns as he dropped, and landed on all fours.

With no adversaries in sight, he broke into a low run, which turned into a sprint.

Harry barrelled past the centre point cover, taking out three more enemies as he went. He was definitely in enemy territory now. A pattering of feet alerted him to Ginny, hot on his heels. He laughed, maybe just a little maniacally.

Colour exploded by an old oak in front of him as Ginny took out a hiding watchman. Raising his own weapon, he reddened a tree behind yet another foe. Finally having reached the enemy base, Harry counted five of the blue team surrounding them.

"Ready, Ginny?" he whispered.

She remained ominously silent.

"Now!" he cried. He jumped into the air just as Ginny dived to the floor, and they each took one out as the flurry of paintballs flew between them. Harry grinned when the paintballs flying under him started moving in the other direction, fired now from the twins' weapons. They plastered a guy who'd clearly been gunning for Ginny. She, however, was rolling to avoid repeating fire from a girl who was also skilfully handling two guns at once, though her rifle was only a semi-auto. He fired reflexively, knowing that he was protecting Ginny but not realising it until the paintballs erupted in mid air.

He slammed to the ground behind Ginny, his air-time coming to an abrupt end.

"Urk," he grunted, rolling sideways and trying to get a lock on the girl firing on Ginny. The futility of her attack was proving highly frustrating for her, but the effort of dodging and diving so much was surely tiring Ginny much faster.

He moved to get line of sight on her assailant, but found himself under attack. A large patch of blue appeared on the underbrush he'd just rolled away from. Harry leapt to his feet, firing at his assailant with his pistol while tracking the other girl with the rifle. The man went down cursing, but so did Ginny. Her opponent lined up on Harry, but he was ready.

Harry pirouetted to avoid the two weapon crossfire and sent what he thought was rapid fire at his final adversary. In reality there was next to no space separating the paintballs, which ended up deflecting off each other as they collided with her chest, sending more paint flying around her than actually onto her. Harry's guns roared in annoyance at their empty feeds, and the world sped back up as the last woman falling held her arms up in defeat, surrounded by a dissipating red cloud.

The whistle blew, and Harry threw both guns to the floor, breathing hard. Ginny took her time getting up, and that was when he knew she was mad. She did everything quickly unless she wanted to extract pain from someone. Grabbing his forearm in a vice-like grip, the redhead dragged him out towards the dead zone. He didn't even hear the marshals award him bonus points for his impossible marksmanship, and Ginny for her acrobatic manoeuvres. Her anger was beginning to infect him.

She only barely kept herself within a reasonable distance of the marshals, and Harry could feel her frustration mounting. He didn't resist her. He knew that he was her only real outlet from the aggravation of being the 'little girl' and being treated as such. The fact that he had offered to cover her as the last in a line of her brothers from previous games probably hadn't helped. Thankfully, the marshals didn't complain at Ginny pulling him along ahead of them. It didn't make the three minute walk back to the gun racks and safe zone beyond any more comfortable, though.

"I thought I said I could protect myself out there," she hissed as soon as she'd dragged him to a corner of one of the waiting areas.

"Ginny, we're on the same team for crying out loud. I'm meant to help you!" he cried as he tore his own protection to the ground. His glasses, trapped in the fittings of the visor, followed it down.

Her anger was influencing his replies, he knew it. But right then, he cared about as much as he understood how the hell that was possible. He stared half-incredulously, half-angrily at the reddish blur that was Ginny Weasley, not really sure which emotions were truly his.

"That shot was meant for me! It was embarrassing! You didn't even _take_ the shot for me. It was going faster than anything I've ever seen, and you just shot it out of the air like it was nothing!" she yelled. A furtive audience was beginning to gather, as their family watched nervously from the front.

"Why won't you let me protect you? I'm your boyfriend for heaven's sake!"

"Everyone always wants to bloody well protect me!" she screamed, as the fire peaked within her. Harry stepped forwards and put his arms around her. She resisted but didn't really fight him. "Don't go too far that I can't see you, Ginny! They're _boys_ , Ginny, don't worry about _them_!" she cried. Her mocking laughter scared him a little. "I've always been the precious little girl. The youngest. Everyone thinks I'm so bloody delicate."

"I don't," he said.

"Yeah, you prove that often enough, don't you?" Her voice had lost a lot of its harshness, though, as she began to relax into his embrace.

"Ginny, I was just doing what I thought was right. And if I remember rightly, you had my back too," he murmured.

"I know, but I'm sick of my family treating me like I need a bubble around me. And now that you're going to be a part of us, I was just..." she said in a muffled whisper, as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Scared that I'd be the same?" he whispered back. They didn't notice the other Weasleys as they walked off silently to sort out the food. The marshals seemed to recognise the need for a moment, since they didn't make any of their regular announcements over the PA system. "I would've thought you could have a go at your family if they were acting up like that."

"Have you ever seen me play Quidditch with everyone else?" she asked rhetorically, and a little bitterly.

He scratched his head with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her. "But... you're an amazing flier."

"I didn't ask if I'd flown before, did I?" she said, leaning back with a mischievous glint in her eye.

He grinned in appreciation. "You couldn't possibly be implying that..." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him just a fraction. "... you enjoy my company that much, could you?"

Her lips curled into a smirk. "Don't let your head swell too much, hmm? Wouldn't want you to be an easy target now, would we?" she said silkily.

Harry blinked, his eyebrows rising. "As if they could get a bead on me," he replied haughtily.

"I suppose our... _enemies_ do need all the help they can get..."

"Plan on giving it to them?"

"Well, let's not be hasty..." Ginny replied.

"And since when are we hasty?"

"That's the twins' job, of course."

They looked at each other, but neither could hold a straight face, and they both fell about laughing.

* * *

The next map after their quick pizza lunch went by very quickly – quickly enough that George had his opportunity to chat up his Muggle girl during the interval. Fred, of course, did his damnedest to interfere, but even still, George was rewarded with her 'telephone number'. He went to Dad to ask about telephones, and was shocked to find Ron explaining it to him.

"So, ickle Ronnikins, you wouldn't have gotten any of this from that wonderfully intelligent brunette in your year, would you?" George smirked.

"What are you on about?" Ron replied. George didn't miss the heat creeping into his little brother's voice. It was noticing details like this that had made him so successful as a prankster, especially while getting himself (but mainly Fred) out of a lot of sticky spots.

"Oh, you can't deceive me, little bro," he said.

"It's not like you're one to talk, anyway," Ron growled.

"Well, at least _I_ have done something about it," he remarked, revelling in the colouring of Ron's ears.

He walked over to the spot where his sister was cosying up to Harry on a bench. He quelled his instinctive response to hex him off her. He trusted him, and while he didn't trust Ginny at all, he knew she was strong enough to keep Harry in line. Besides, if Harry did anything to his baby sister, there'd be six wands causing him a lot of pain. Well, six once Bill and Charlie shifted their arses from their fancy foreign jobs.

"So, Harry..." he began.

"Yeah?" Harry looked up, although keeping his head turned to one side. George's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but he could deal with whatever Harry and his sister had been getting up to after he'd found a way to keep in contact with Laura.

"Oh, hello George," Ginny mocked. George made a face at her.

He checked his posture and expression before beginning. "Well, you see Harry, I was hoping for a bit of a favour. You see..."

"He really fancies that girl over there, and wants something Muggle to keep in touch with her," Ginny whispered loudly.

He made a face at Ginny, and then turned his most winning smile on Harry.

"I'm not sure, I mean I was going to ask Dad about it because I'm sure he'd love it, but there's no telephone wires up to the Burrow..." Harry trailed off and sighed at their evidently blank faces.

"So, uhh, how do I play this?" George asked.

Harry's face scrunched up, and George groaned inside. He'd have to hope that girl, Jennifer, lived somewhere near Ottery St. Catchpole. He glanced back towards her group, and returned her grin.

"Maybe if you look for a payphone in the village?" Harry offered. "If not I'm sure one of the shops would let you use their phone. Might make you pay, but..."

Ginny whispered something in Harry's ear and giggled. George's eyes narrowed again. She was truly infuriating.

"Ginny!" Harry gasped, sounding scandalised. "We'd all need to use it!"

George glared at his sister. "Well, thanks, Harry. I'd, err, best be off. Got to, um, clean my goggles."

"You do that," Harry smirked, turning back to look at him fully. This simple motion displayed the hickey in all its glory.

"Ginny!" George cried indignantly.

Ginny smirked evilly. "What, did you want one?" His eyes bulged. It had definitely been too early for Ginny to have a boyfriend. They'd needed another year or two to condition her - talent like hers couldn't be wasted! She pointed past him. "Go on then, George," she said, the giggles overcoming her.

He shook his head wearily. _'What am I going to do about those two?'_

 ** _'_** ** _Well, you could always go get that hickey...'_** ** __**Fred began.

 ** _'_** ** _Shut it, you, or I'll reverse the glamours on_** **your** ** _neck!'_** George shot back.

George took great pleasure in watching his brother gulp. Maybe he'd do it anyway. It was certainly more like his brother to do something like that, but after today, there wouldn't be any more jokes about Fred's relationship with Angelina. _'Oh well, it's not like I was against it in the first place.'_ He unashamedly strolled over to the head of long, dark brown hair. It couldn't be too hard to explain away little things like Hogwarts. Muggles had boarding schools, didn't they?

* * *

Harry was laughing aloud during the last map. He'd been able to feel Ginny's excitement and glee radiating from her, and it was such a welcome change from the anger he'd been feeling from her earlier, he felt like he had nothing better to do than sweep her off her feet. However, he knew Ginny would hate him for it at that moment, so he'd battled on.

His proudest moment came when he was running back from an ambush. He'd run into a tree and two paces up it, then back flipped off, allowing him to evade the volleys of blue paintballs that scarred the sycamore with orange paint . Upside down, Harry had splattered each of his dumbfounded opponents. How he'd managed to take out three people with his sidearm, he had no clue, since the rifles didn't work upside-down. But when the marshals had to start shooting at them to even out the teams, 'war-cry' was not sufficient to describe the sounds that were coming out of their mouths.

The rest of the day was very calm in comparison. Mum had informed them that they had two hours before they'd be heading for the bus home. Everyone, even Percy, complained at this, but she was adamant that they should be home before six. They went to Blockbuster to pick up a couple of movies, and walked out with a small bag each.

He did his best to hide price tags and such, but he knew that Mum was unhappy just because he was letting everyone buy anything they wanted. The only things keeping her from dragging them all home were probably a mixture of her clearly enjoying the paintballing, plus the fact that all this would be a far superior education in Muggles than anything the school could provide. He knew that Muggle technology fizzled and failed at Hogwarts since Dean's Sony Discman had actually partially melted after giving the poor guy two seconds of memorable earache.

Of course, the movies would only really be educational if he kept telling everyone what was real and what was faked. An evil grin spread across his features as they headed for the bus stop. Ginny poked him in the shoulder, grinning back.

"You're going to have to tell me what you have planned, mister. I know that look. It's the same one you had on your face when you decided to put grease on Malfoy's broom," she stated. He sighed dramatically.

"You have to admit that while I don't work at the twins' level, when I play a prank it _is_ funny."

"Only because I'm there, too," she reprimanded him.

"Of course," he Harry replied with a grin, stooping into a low bow. She giggled, unaware of her parents smiling at their antics.

"Hey, Harry listen. We appreciate all this, you know."

"Not everyone," he mumbled, glancing back at Mum.

"Oh, sod it... I appreciate it. I know you aren't thick enough to try and buy your way into the family. Nearly, but not quite there," she said slyly.

The intense look he gave her made her squeal, with a moment of indecisiveness before she ran to hide behind Ron. He laughed. "Oi, Ron, do me a favour? Tickle your sister for me."

He raised his arms, a bag in each, and shrugged. "Sorry mate," he said calmly, although a smile was tugging at his lips. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll get you later," Harry mouthed to her.

She smirked. "Do your worst, Potter," she mouthed back.

* * *

Harry gave Ginny and Ron a lazy grin as he half-sat, half-fell into his chair. He'd had the longest, most peaceful night's sleep that he could remember. Paintballing had taken far more out of him than he'd expected. Ron, of course, barely acknowledged him, enchanted as he was by Super Mario Land on his new Game Boy. In fact, Harry started wondering if Ron had noticed him at all, since he had earphones in. The question was answered when Ginny subtly dug her heel into Ron's shin. He jumped, shooting her a quick glare. He grinned happily at Harry, gesturing to the game console before sinking right back into the virtual, 8-bit world. Ginny sighed theatrically before giving Harry a quick kiss.

"Eat up, I'm going to see if the twins have come up with anything clever to get the dimwit over there off his new toy," she grinned.

"An alliance? Wow, this must really be pissing you off!" he said with mock astonishment.

"Language, Harry," she smirked before jogging off up the stairs.

Shaking his head, Harry reached for the bacon. It was then that he realised that Ron wasn't eating. He did a double-take, checking both of Ron's hands before sitting back in his chair in amazement. Perhaps Ginny was right after all...

He finished a quick breakfast before heading up to find the three of them. It was for a noble cause, after all. He didn't see Ron punch the air behind him, but heard the ecstatic: "Yeah! Level 9!" Eyes widening slightly in disbelief and amusement, he picked up the pace.


	9. 09 - Harry Weasley

Albus Dumbledore smiled at the storm of sound coming from the Burrow. He'd only been here a few times in his life; those visits spread over two generations of the Weasleys of South-west England, but always the sounds and smells were the same. Weasley households everywhere seemed to strive to define the word 'home'. Not that this was his first visit to the Burrow in recent days. Harry's safety was paramount, and Albus had led an extensive warding project while they'd been in Romania. The eldest of the siblings had been unavailable for that trip for a very good reason. Using Bill's knowledge of the family's magical signatures, Albus had been able to actively tie their identities to the wards. He wondered whether Molly and Arthur had yet told their children about the security update.

"Albus, come in, please," Molly said warmly as she opened the door. "I'm truly sorry about all this trouble..."

"Oh, nonsense," he replied as she shut the door behind him. "Besides, if the involvement of a blood Weasley girl didn't catch the Wizengamot's attention, then Harry Potter certainly did. I would say that I was rather encouraged to come today."

"Oh, I do hope there won't be too much of a fuss," she fretted, while leading him through to the sitting room.

"I'm afraid that that complication cannot truly be avoided. The press will only be more likely to smear you if we attempt to hold the story back. The most I can do is to, ahem, keep Ms. Skeeter busy for the next few weeks."

"Oh, well, thank you Albus. I..."

"It is quite alright, Molly. Some things are usually better left unspoken," he said, with twinkling eyes.

He spotted the television set, and just hid his surprise. He supposed he shouldn't have been shocked. If Harry had anything of his mother in him, he would be a generous soul, and that's exactly what Dumbledore had been hearing. He then had to hide his amusement as he imagined the fight Molly would have given Harry before accepting such a gift. He certainly noticed the look she gave it. At that, he wondered how they planned to power it.

Mrs Weasley sighed, and gestured to the chairs by the fireplace with a smile. "Would you like any tea, Albus?" she asked as he sat down in one of the armchairs.

"Tea would be wonderful Molly. I did wonder whether Ginevra will be in attendance? I understand it was she who requested my presence in the first place," he commented.

"Yes, she did..." Molly replied, a small frown on her face.

"Not to worry, my dear. I'm only too happy to aid the two of them in pursuing their, ah, interests in each other."

She threw him a slightly sharp look, but at the sight of his twinkling eyes and genial smile, she huffed and went to look for her daughter and ... son. Not before telling Ron to put the kettle on, of course.

"Ron? Ron? What are you... FRED! GEORGE! Get down here _now_!" Ron was slowly backing away from some sort of electronic muggle device. _'I do wonder why the excitement of the magical field around the Burrow hasn't overloaded it yet. And all that charmwork and transfiguration can't be doing it any good.'_ As it was, the device appeared to have sprouted eight legs. They were quite brilliant metallic recreations of a spider's legs, with iron filings replacing hairs, and they were slightly greasy. As it turned towards him, Albus saw that the screen was displaying eight dark eyes.

His curiosity overcame him, and he discreetly pulled his wand. Waving it in a long, intricate pattern, he swept it slowly around himself. Once he had muttered a long and complex incantation, a silvery sheen passed over the muggle object. He pointed his wand at a spare piece of parchment he'd had in an inside pocket. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. There was absolutely no interference from the magical field detectable in the circuitry of the device. Deciding that now wasn't the best time to investigate, he stowed his wand and returned the parchment to his pocket.

"Mum, we didn't do anything to the GameBoy," one of the twins was complaining.

"Yeah, I mean we're all supposed to _share_ it," the other went on.

"... So why would we damage it?"

Albus shook his head, chuckling. They were exactly like their maternal uncles. Gideon and Fabian, the walking comedy show. Something had gone out of Molly Weasley when they were assassinated during the war.

"I'll deal with the two of you later," Molly hissed. "Just count yourselves lucky we have such an esteemed guest."

Both of their heads came around the edge of the doorframe, and were pulled back quickly.

"Now go upstairs, and find Harry and Ginny," she ordered.

"Something tells me they won't want to be interrupted," came a mutter. Albus knew he was only hearing it because of the Super-Sensory Charm he kept active wherever he went. As proof of the fact, there was no explosion from their mother as they trudged upstairs.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ " came the whisper from the kitchen. It was repeated over and over again. Albus estimated that from the number of transformations and conjurations, and the charms used to simulate a spider's movements, it would take between eighteen and twenty reversals. He counted twenty.

* * *

"Wow. Look, Fred, they're not snogging each other stupid this time," George remarked from the door.

"Well, they probably didn't want to go into this meeting looking like they'd just been dragged here from the Quidditch Pitch," Fred mused.

"Oh, do shut up. You'd be worse if your girlfriends were here," Ginny shot at the twins. George grinned and shrugged at her. "Don't think I've not seen you and Angelina, Fred. I have a feeling that even Dad would disapprove."

Fred's eyes went wide, and he shot a suspicious glare at her boyfriend.

Harry sniggered at his ... brother's face. Today, they were just going through the paperwork to make sure everything was in order. Tomorrow, they had to go to the Magical Contracts and Bonds Office in the DMLE to register Harry as being adopted by the Weasleys.

Ginny was currently helping him in the effort to tame his hair. He jumped as he unknowingly caught a knot with the brush and pulled three hairs right out of his scalp.

"You're fighting a losing battle there, Harry," George said sympathetically. He knew exactly what his twin was thinking, but knew that Harry was too much of a nice guy to try anything like that. It was Ginny that deserved their suspicion. Then again, if they said anything, she'd probably do something stupid just out of spite.

"Yeah, but Mum says I have to make an effort," he groaned.

"And it gives you an excuse for more time with Ginny," Fred sighed. "We get it."

"Anyway, you'd best finish up, up here, cause Dumbledore is downstairs now."

"Fine, but before we go, did the prank work?" Ginny asked.

"Well, he's scared of the thing for now..." George began.

"... but we will have to wait and see for lasting effects," Fred finished.

"Okay, let's go see Dumbledore!" Ginny said. She turned to see Harry gazing at her with a slight frown on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Um, I think I prefer your hair when it's down," he said quietly. She was wearing it up in a ponytail.

"Really?" she asked quietly, sitting down in his lap.

A nervous smile crossed his face. "Yeah... the way it blows around and catches the light..." They ignored the sounds of retching behind them. For once, as they gazed into each other's eyes, neither of them said a word.

"Look guys, this is sickeningly romantic and everything..." Fred said, pretending to choke up.

"...But Professor Dumbledore is still downstairs," George finished, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

"He has a point," Harry said.

Ginny made a face. "After that?"

He suppressed the snigger. "I'll make it up to you."

She grabbed him by his half tamed hair and kissed him hard, knocking him backwards onto his bed.

"And we're back to normal," said Fred.

"Get a move on, midgets," George added.

"Hey!" Ginny protested.

The twins responded with identical smirks, pointing down the stairs.

They hurried downstairs, Ginny's hair bouncing rhythmically in its ponytail. Mum and Dad were waiting in the living room, and Harry and Ginny sat between them on the sofa. Waving his wand, Dumbledore conjured a muggle expanding file on the table before him. It was a little odd to see rolls of parchment being retrieved from the recognisably mundane object, especially considering the fact that the two inch wide rolls were coming completely unharmed out of spaces meant for a few sheets of paper.

"Now that we are all here, I have brought copies of the necessary forms, and we may begin. These have already been filled out, and I have made the necessary amendments to allow Harry to retain his name, and remain scion of the Potter House. This minimises the legal questions as to any special relationship between Harry and Ginevra, and allows the survival of the House of Potter," Dumbledore stated.

They both blushed, but Ginny was smiling contentedly. _'I wonder what scion of my house means.'_ He didn't feel it was wise to interrupt.

"Now all that is left is for Arthur, Molly and Harry to read the contract through to ensure you are happy with it, and sign the documentation."

Harry took his copies of the documents gingerly, and began to carefully read. The next six years of his life were in his hands. It certainly felt like it. Each roll of parchment was of a significantly heavier grade than what they used in school, and there were three of them. The first was about Mr. and Mrs Weasley and whether they were capable of raising him properly. The second was about everyone involved, and their willingness for him to be adopted by the Weasleys. It also asked why they wanted to go through with it. The third one contained the terms of the adoption. It seemed tailor-made for this situation. There was even a clause specifically referring to his title.

Under the terms of this agreement, Harry James of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter shall retain all rights as scion of that family, and as such retains both name and heritage even as he is adopted by the Ancient and Most Noble House Weasley. This does not affect the rights of Arthur William Weasley and Molly Astraea Weasley (née Prewett) as his parents in the eyes of the law.

He watched Ginny's satisfied smile as she read his copy, and found himself smiling slightly too. While he understood that Ginny's desire to ensure that they'd be able to marry in the future was practical, it still scared him a little.

"Sir?" he asked hesitantly. "What's a scion? And what does it mean about my heritage?"

Dumbledore sagged visibly. "Harry, you may have realised by now that you are all that is left of the Potters. When you come of age, you inherit all that remains to the name of Potter. I do not know what may await in the Gringotts vaults, but your parents' wills are being held at their request until you are legally a man. Further, the Potter seat on the Wizengamot has been undisturbed for many years now, and will be part of your inheritance. Let me see now..."

Harry stared blankly. _'Vaults? Wills? Wizengamot?'_

"Ah yes, your family's home in Godric's Hollow and the castle in the Yorkshire Dales. I'm afraid both properties suffered significant damage in the war, but they will surely be yours."

 _'_ _Castle?'_ Harry gaped at him. "I... Oh." Ginny was pretty wide eyed herself, though she did not seem nearly so shocked as he felt.

 ** _'_** ** _I knew the Potters had a castle, '_** Ginny explained. **_'But everyone thought it was destroyed in the war, right at the beginning. '_**

He finished reading the whole thing a little while later. He smiled his assent at his parents to be, and they smiled back before turning to Dumbledore.

"Well, I think we're all happy with that," Dad said. Mum, Harry and Ginny all nodded their agreement.

"Then I do believe," Dumbledore pronounced, "that that concludes our business today. All that is left now is for the three of you to be interviewed at the ministry, tomorrow. Any other family members, or friends of Harry's who can testify to his being suited to your care will of course strengthen your case."

"Hey, isn't Neville staying at home for the holidays?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, of course. He's doing something extra for Herbology, right?" Harry replied.

"Well, I'm sure you can contact him via the Floo," Mum commented. "We can bring everyone. Is your friend Hermione still in Sweden?"

"I don't know. Pity she doesn't have a Floo connection..." Ginny mused.

"And I don't have her telephone number either," Harry added. "It'd be too short notice if I sent Hedwig, wouldn't it?"

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore! I'm sure you have quite a busy schedule-" Mrs Weasley began.

"Not to worry, Molly. I did plan in plenty of time. Then again, now that all is settled here, I may as well take my leave of you. I wish you all the very best of luck, and I hope to see the two of you refreshed and eager for the start of the new term." He rose from his seat, and nodded to them all. Mrs Weasley rushed to escort him out of the house.

"Well then, Harry... No doubts, I hope?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"No. It seemed a lot more real and intimidating, with the papers in front of me. But I'm really happy about this," Harry replied.

"We're happy to help," Mr. Weasley assured him. "No child should ever have to go through what you did."

Harry rolled his left shoulder, feeling immense satisfaction in how far back it went. "Thank you, sir."

"Well let's go and Floo call your friend then, shall we?" Mrs Weasley asked when she returned.

Eager to see something new, Harry jumped to his feet and followed Mrs Weasley to the fireplace. She lit a fire with her wand then took some glittery powder from a flowerpot. "Longbottom Manor," she called, throwing the powder onto the flames. The fire went bright green, and she put her head right into it. Harry jerked forward instinctively to pull her out, but Ginny grabbed his arm.

"Forgot you didn't know about Floo," she grinned. "Don't worry, it doesn't burn."

He realised that now of course, considering that Mrs Weasley wasn't igniting in front of him.

"Right, well which of you wants to talk to him?" Mrs Weasley asked, surfacing again.

"We can't both talk to him?" Harry asked.

"Not at the same time," Mrs Weasley said. "It's not safe, dear."

"You go ahead Harry, I'll wait," Ginny said.

"Don't take too long, Harry," Mrs Weasley warned. "We haven't got that much Floo powder."

"I can ask him to call back, right?" Harry asked.

Mrs Weasley frowned. "I suppose so, but don't impose, Harry."

"I wouldn't, Mrs Weasley," Harry said.

"I'll go get Ron," Ginny said, promptly running off.

Harry put his head into the fire as Mrs Weasley had, and had the most awkward sensation that his head was flying at breakneck speeds through a warm, narrow tunnel while his body remained kneeling in the Burrow. A short time later, he found himself staring up at Neville's grinning face.

"Hey Neville!" he said. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good, thanks. You?"

"Fine," Harry replied. "So, you going to tell me what you were so excited about the Christmas holidays for now, or what?"

Neville laughed. "Yeah, okay. But don't tell Hermione, I want to see her face when she finds out."

Harry shook his head. Neville had changed so much from the introvert he'd been in the first few weeks. "Sure, what is it?"

"I was talking to Professor Sprout about the greenhouse I keep at home," Neville said. Harry nodded for him to continue. "Well, she said that if I was really interested in Herbology, she could give me some seeds to work with. You know, plants I didn't have yet."

"Hey, that's pretty cool," Harry grinned. Honestly, he didn't have the enthusiasm for the subject that Neville did, but looking after plants really made the guy happy. "What has she given you?"

"Well, she gave me some Abyssinian Shrivelfig seeds a few weeks ago. She said if I can handle these and bring her a shrivelfig prepared to use in potions, she'll give me some Asphodel seeds."

Harry recognised Asphodel from Snape's lectures. "Hey, that's not bad at all, Neville. You know, you could probably use those to start practising potions at home."

"Harry, I get enough of potions at school," Neville grinned.

"Yeah, because Snape's a dick," Harry said darkly.

"Harry, my grandmother might hear you!" Neville laughed.

"Anyway, if you show up next year making perfect potions, that would show him, wouldn't it?"

Neville smiled. "Yeah, I guess it would. You reckon Hermione would be interested in working with me?"

Harry squinted at him. The frequency of Hermiones was starting to rouse his suspicions. "Probably. You should ask her."

Neville went slightly pink, and Harry knew he was on to something.

"Mate, I nearly forgot," Harry said. "Can you call back when this runs out, please? We're running low on Floo powder."

"Yes, of course," Neville replied. "The Burrow, right?"

"That's the one," Harry agreed. "Anyway, there was something I meant to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"We're all headed to the Ministry tomorrow to apply for the Weasleys to adopt me," Harry grinned.

"Mate that's awesome," Neville enthused.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Thing is, Professor Dumbledore said that we should bring as many people who can help with the interviews..."

"Of course I'll come," Neville said. "Wait, I need to ask my grandmother first. When is it?"

"Three in the afternoon," Harry replied.

Neville scrambled off to find Mrs Longbottom. Harry didn't know what to think of the woman. She obviously cared about him, but her lack of faith in Neville seemed to really affect him. It was the only thing he could think to attribute Neville's prior lack of confidence to.

Looking out of the flames, Harry saw a room that Draco Malfoy might have been happy to have in his house — except, perhaps, for the lack of Slytherin trappings. Mrs Weasley had said it was a manor, but Harry hadn't thought much of it. Neville didn't exactly go on about being rich, so Harry had just assumed he was moderately well off and didn't ask. The room has huge, for one thing. Three of the Dursleys' living rooms could have fit in here comfortably. There was a large gramophone off to one side, and to Harry's eye it seemed that the entire thing was made of gold. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which must have been eight or maybe ten metres high. Suddenly, he noticed that there were faces staring back at him. It might have been the lack of portraits at the Burrow, but he'd almost forgotten that magical ones could move and talk. Just as he was about to try to break the awkward silence, Neville returned wearing a broad grin.

"I can come, Harry," Neville said. "So tell me about Romania."

* * *

Harry found that he rather liked the underground. It was probably something to do with the fact that nobody paid him any attention whatsoever. They were, on the other hand, throwing the occasional disapproving look at Fred and George, who were competing with each other to see who could do the most pull ups on the overhead rails. Percy looked scandalised. It took about thirty seconds for him to decide to tell Mrs Weasley, who'd been distracted reading the map. She put a stop to their antics pretty quickly. Mr. Weasley was nearly as conspicuous as he stared at his train ticket, flicking it occasionally and apparently marvelling at the material.

Ron was nattering about the Chudley Cannons, the Quidditch team he supported to ... well, probably to Harry actually. Mrs Weasley gave Ron a warning look when he accidentally mentioned the word 'bludger' but so far he seemed to be doing an admirable job of keeping the language muggle-friendly. Ron paused, and Harry gave a neutral grunt that seemed to satisfy his friend. Harry loved Quidditch, but when it came to talking about it, Ron's exuberance reached almost Hermione-ish levels. Harry put his head in his hand, making a face like he was going to cry, and Ginny burst into a fit of giggles.

"But Ron, the Wasps are obviously going to buy him," Ginny interjected.

Well that seemed to set Ron off like nothing else.

The train slowed noisily as it pulled in to Westminster. Harry wondered why Mr. and Mrs Weasley hadn't Apparated them directly to the Ministry, but it seemed that Mr. Weasley was curious about the tube system now that he'd been on a bus. They followed him across the busy roads to a completely ordinary looking telephone box.

Harry grinned. "Hey, we don't have to all get in there together do we?"

"Why would we need to do that?" Mr. Weasley asked, confused.

"I don't know what to expect anymore," Harry shrugged.

"Well, you, Ron and Ginny come with me," Mr. Weasley said. "The number to dial is 62442, Molly."

"I remember, Arthur," Mrs Weasley smiled.

They got into the telephone booth one at a time, and it wasn't too tight a fit as long as they didn't try to move much.

"They would have put undetectable extension charms on this," Mr. Weasley said, "but there's too much chance of muggles accidentally triggering them and noticing that there's more space inside than there should be." He picked up the receiver and dialled 62442. Harry was about to mention that he should put the receiver to his ear when a disembodied female voice started talking to them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," she said. Harry stared off to his right, convinced that the woman was standing next to him.

"The bit with the wire coming out goes to your mouth," Harry said as Mr. Weasley fumbled with it.

"Thank you, Harry," he said. "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here with Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Ginevra Weasley to file for adoption of Harry Potter. Another four people will be coming in after us."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take your badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a rattling noise, and they all stood waiting for something to happen.

"Please find your identification badges behind the metal flap below the dialling pad," the voice said. Harry was already there, handing out the plain looking badges. His read simply:

 _Harry Potter_

 _Visitor_

Harry's stomach lurched as the box shuddered into motion. He glared at the receiver for not giving him fair warning as the world was closed off by the ground. The box carried them through many metres of rock and earth before they were expelled into the bright light of the atrium. Harry's jaw dropped.

Maybe a hundred or more huge fireplaces stretched out into the darkness, and the occasional flare of green flame accompanied the wizards and witches who walked out of them. Loud cracking sounds indicated apparition points somewhere beyond the fireplaces. But most prominent of all was the waterfall. Try as he might, Harry couldn't even see some of it. The chamber it was in must have been far taller than the part of the atrium they were being lowered into. It consisted of five golden statues. There was a tall witch and wizard looking rather grandiose, while three other beings looked up in awe and adoration. He recognised the goblin, although he didn't think it was a very realistic expression for one. The witch and wizard were holding their wands aloft, and these were producing water. There was water coming from the arrow-tip of a bow-wielding horse-man hybrid; the goblin was producing water from the tip of his hat, and the other small creature was spouting from the tips of its long ears.

 ** _'_** ** _What are they?'_** Harry asked, pointing at the fountain.

 ** _'_** ** _Dad said it's called the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He doesn't think it's very good. He doesn't believe that we're better than anyone else, so he doesn't see why they should all look like they're worshipping us. But those are a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf,'_** Ginny replied.

 ** _'_** ** _I've met goblins, and they certainly wouldn't look at any wizard like that,'_** Harry grinned. **_'What's a house-elf?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _They're only about up to your belly button. Wizards have kept them as slaves for as long as anyone can remember,'_** she answered. Seeing his look of horror, she went on. **_'I know, it's horrible, isn't it? But the weird thing is, they seem to enjoy it.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Enjoy it? You mean they like being slaves?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah, I guess. I got all this from another guy who lives in the area. He's on the other side of the village. Cedric Diggory. He's a Hufflepuff fourth year. He said that if an elf isn't magically bound to a wizard bloodline, they fade out of existence.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _That sounds like some kind of really awful curse,'_** Harry commented. Slavery was the last thing he'd think to find in the wizarding world. Then he thought of Malfoy. That bastard would just love to have a slave to kick around.

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah, it does, actually, doesn't it?'_** Ginny pondered. **_'I think I'll ask Dad...'_**

At that moment, the telephone box hit the ground with a bump, and they quickly followed Dad out. The cubicle creaked, and began its return journey to the surface. Just then, Harry realised that there weren't any cables or anything to pull the box up, and he grinned contentedly.

Dad led them over to one of the three security desks which barred the way out of the atrium. Here they had their wands examined, and Harry had the uncomfortable experience of yet again having his scar stared at. Ginny was having trouble smothering her laughter as Harry shifted under the guard's constant glances and 'subtle' looks. After the man was done running some thin, golden instrument up and down each of them, he asked for each of their wands so that he could examine them. He would place the wand on something like a weighing scale with only one dish. It would vibrate, then shoot a strip of parchment out of a slit in its base.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. It's been in use for four months, correct?" the man asked Harry. He nodded, and the man returned his wand gently. He impaled the strip of parchment on a brass spike, and gave it to Harry as if it were a cinema ticket. Then he turned to Ginny. "And you, miss?"

"Oh, sorry, I don't have a wand yet," she said delicately. The man looked at her suspiciously.

"I'm sorry miss, but this," he raised the golden instrument, "has picked up strong magical residue matching your signature, especially on your right hand."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. They hadn't thought of this. Ginny's talent surely wouldn't stay secret for long if they told the Ministry of Magic about it. How much did people outside Hogwarts know, anyway?

Mr. Weasley put a hand in front of Ginny. "Eric, she's underage."

"Arthur, if she's underage, then she shouldn't be recording such powerful traces of her own magic."

"Well I can't explain that, but you know she's rather prone to accidental magic," he replied. "She's underage, so she's Molly's and my responsibility while she's here." The others turned up at this point, and Percy was complaining about something or other the twins had done.

The man sighed. "Alright, Arthur. Go on, then."

They went past the security desk and towards the giant fountain. Though the tip of the wizard's wand was at least twenty metres above them, it cast its water jet again as high above that. The water cascaded into the pool in shimmering sheets, and a mist hung about the bases of the statues, scattering light into sporadic rainbows.

"Harry! Ron! Ginny! We're over here!" someone called. They turned and grinned as Neville was admonished by an austere looking woman for making such a disturbance.

"Hey, Neville!" Harry grinned. "Hello, um, Mrs Longbottom, isn't it?" He extended his hand with some trepidation.

"Harry Potter, am I right?" she replied. She sniffed, before taking his hand and shaking it briefly. "Glad to make your acquaintance. And you are?" She directed at Ron and Ginny.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," she said defiantly. Harry almost sniggered. She was one person who'd never let herself be intimidated. "I'm Harry's girlfriend."

Mrs Longbottom's eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded.

"Ron Weasley," he said a little quietly. Ginny smirked at her brother.

"Chin up, Ronniekins, I'm sure she doesn't bite!" Fred said loudly. Ron cursed under his breath and aimed a back-heel at his brother, but missed, and hit the other twin instead.

"Oi, what did I do to deserve that?" George asked, mock-glaring. Ron gave him a real glare in return. "Oh, so sorry. You're Mrs Longbottom, am I right? Neville's grandmother? We're Fred and George Weasley."

"No, I say Fred and George," Fred exclaimed.

"No, I'm..."

"Oh, do shut up, you two!" Ginny admonished. They stopped talking at once, probably more out of surprise than anything else, but Mrs Longbottom gave her an approving look. "Now, Mrs Longbottom, that one is always Fred because-"

 _'_ _I see your game,'_ Harry grinned.

"No! You wouldn't!" they both cried. They fell to their knees before their sister, begging her not to give away their secret. He'd figured out one way of telling them apart already. Fred was usually the one to speak or act first and he usually pulled more vicious pranks.

"Nice to meet you boys, and you, Ginny," Mrs Longbottom said, with something close to a smile.

"And the same to you, Mrs Longbottom," Harry said.

"Hello, Augusta. How are you today?" Dad asked politely.

"I'm doing well, Arthur. Molly," she acknowledged them with a nod. "You were never ones to turn anyone away. I admire that in you. Now, I believe we have a meeting to get to, and I do have a pressing appointment beyond then, so shall we go?"

"Of course, of course," Dad replied, leading them all through the vast atrium. It was only as they closed on the statue that he noticed the coins glittering beneath the surface of the water. There was an engraving upon the base:

ALL PROCEEDS FROM THE FOUNTAIN OF MAGICAL BRETHREN WILL BE GIVEN TO ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES.

 _'_ _If they let the Weasleys adopt me, I swear I will put ten galleons into this fountain. I swear.'_

They continued on through a pair of golden gates, and into a smaller hall with ten lifts to each side, and a few more at the far end. Once they were all inside the lift, the golden gates on the outside slammed together of their own accord. The lift doors also slid quickly together without any visible assistance or instruction. He jumped at the noises, and felt vindicated to see Ron twitch, too. But that shock was nothing to what he felt when the lift rushed rapidly backwards.

After a minute or so of Harry cursing magical transportation in his head over and over again, they finally heard the disembodied voice say, "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Nobody spoke until Harry noticed the sunlight coming in through the windows. "Aren't we still underground?"

"Yes, Harry. The windows here are enchanted. The people at Magical Maintenance decide our weather. It was a nightmare when they wanted raises a couple of years ago. Two months of hurricanes..." Mr. Weasley reminisced. He led them out and around the chamber of lifts, under an arch which read 'Administrative Registration Department'.

"Can you feel it?" Ginny whispered to him and Neville. They turned to her.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked nervously. He was obviously remembering the last time they had 'felt something', and ended up faced with a three-headed monster of a mongrel.

"It's the windows. It's like I can ... feel them there as well as see them. It's odd," she went on quietly.

"Maybe it's to do with your abilities. You should ask Dumbledore," Harry said.

"Don't call them abilities, Harry. I'm no more powerful than any of you," Ginny whispered, her cheeks tinged with pink.

"Don't sell yourself short, Ginny. You're brilliant, and you know it," he replied with a grin. She punched him on the arm, her blush blossoming. Neville just shook his head, snorting quietly with suppressed laughter.

"Here we are, everyone — the Magical Contracts and Bonds Office," Dad announced. Harry took a deep breath. Neville gave him a pat on the back, and he gave him a brief smile to show his gratitude. He walked forwards through the door Mr. Weasley was holding open, feeling a rising sense of nervousness. He felt Ginny's presence behind him, and held onto it like a lifeline. This was everything he dreamed of — a family that cared for him, a home where he was welcome... He raised his head, and followed Mr. and Mrs Weasley toward the desk marked 'Family and Marriage'.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs Weasley, Mr. Potter, and associates," the secretary called to them. "You will be seen now." She gestured toward the double doors on her right.

The wait had only brought back Harry's nerves. He'd stared at the clock on the wall almost unblinkingly for the last seven minutes and forty-nine seconds. Eager for it all to be over, he leapt to his feet, and only barely allowed his parents-to-be to lead the group. Ginny talking to him in his mind was the only thing that kept him from bouncing off the walls.

In the small room beyond were two people seated at the opposite end behind a simple wooden desk. There were a few chairs facing them which were evidently for Mum, Dad and himself. They sat down there, while everyone else sat down on the two benches behind those chairs. He sat between mum and dad, sending a quick grin back at Ron, Neville and Ginny before facing what were evidently the Wizard versions of social workers. The lady on the right returned his grin, but the woman on the left looked a bit tired, and was still looking through the papers the Ministry had gotten from Dad yesterday evening.

"Hello, my name is Laetitia Protcham, and this is Freia Opallon," said the smiling woman. She looked about thirty, and her smile was friendly and warm. Harry didn't understand why, but he instinctively felt that she was trustworthy, even a good person. She stood slowly, and he noticed that both of the women, like the secretaries out in the lobby, were wearing pale green robes. "Harry, if you could please come with me, we can leave the grown-ups alone for a little while?"

He nodded, but as she walked around the table, extending her arm, he added, "Could Ginny come with me?"

Miss Protcham nodded emphatically. "Yes, of course. I do hope I'm not too scary, though!" she laughed. He turned to see where Ginny was, and she grabbed his hand. "Right, well, just follow me then."

They followed the woman out through a door on the right of the room, glancing back at their friends and family one last time before going through. Fred was already doing something to the back of Ron's shirt.

The room beyond was about the size of Ginny's bedroom. There was a smallish, round table in the middle with a few chairs around it, and there was a clear jug of pumpkin juice and some chocolate frogs. The walls were a warm burgundy colour, with a couple of small posters of _'Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle'_ and _'Men in Black'_.

 ** _'_** ** _I think the men in black are some foreign aurors. I can't remember where they're from, though,'_** Ginny thought through their link as they sat.

"So, how are the two of you today?" Miss Protcham asked.

"Great, Miss Protcham," they replied.

"Oh, I feel so old," she grinned. "Now, I do believe that you're going to be Harry's sister, is that right, Ginny?"

"Um, y-yes, but I'm not sure," she stuttered. She was blushing a bit, and Harry decided to take over.

"Well, I think I'm supposed to stay a Potter, but Mr. And Mrs Weasley will be my parents. It was a bit confusing, but I think Ginny would be my sister-in-law," he supplied.

"Yes, that's what the papers have been changed to say," she said, chewing her cheek thoughtfully. "I can't really remember the last time these had to be edited..."

Harry began to feel unreasonably guilty. "Well, you know, I'm supposed to be the last of my family. I didn't want to just let it die. I ... I don't have much left." He ducked his head. He hadn't really meant to say so much, but ever since Ginny had forced his story out of him back in September, he'd found himself being more open. The aforementioned girl squeezed his arm and gave him a little kiss on the cheek, which made his face burn, but he felt a bit more confident.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to pry," Miss Protcham said in a soft voice. "Well, I suppose we had better move on to the legal stuff, or we'll be making everyone else wait for us." They nodded. "Before we start, I just want to make sure that you know that anything said here today will stay here. We will completely respect your privacy and everything will be confidential." She received another two nods. "Okay, well, Harry, how long have you known Mr. and Mrs Weasley?"

"I met them at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was looking for someone to take care of me, and Ginny owled her parents about it. They came to visit me a few days later, and we organised things for me to spend the Christmas holidays with them," he explained.

"Okay, and if you don't mind, what was wrong with going back to where you grew up? Sorry, but not a lot is known about your childhood, and no amount of homework helped me with that," she said.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore told me that there was some kind of protection there for me because my aunt had my mum's blood in her. That's about all I understood. But I didn't really like it there, and something I said or did at Hogwarts messed up the protections, so Dumbledore didn't think it was safe for me to go back there," he elucidated.

"Oh, well I suppose your growing up with muggles would explain no-one knowing about it," she mused.

"I don't know, but I didn't like them. They didn't like me, either," Harry elaborated. She looked up at him. "It doesn't matter. I don't have to see them again."

"You know that we can work with muggle social services to handle certain ... situations, Harry," she suggested. Ginny perked up at this, and the woman frowned, seeming to realise that she was missing a lot of the story.

"I don't want you to," Harry said firmly. Ginny gasped openly, her head snapping round so fast that her hair whipped Harry in the face. "Pffff. No, I'm serious. I think they were more afraid of magic and what abilities I might have than they really hated me as a person."

"Listen, Harry. I can't force you to do anything, but if they have harmed you, in any way, it's my responsibility to do what I can to bring them to justice."

"I just want to forget about them. I don't want anything to do with them anymore," he said softly.

"That's okay, Harry. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me," Miss Protcham said fervently. She let out a breath, straightening her robes and readjusting her seat, but the smile that returned to her lips when she looked at Harry was unstable. "Let's move on from that then."

"Thank you," Harry murmured gratefully.

Miss Protcham ran a hand over her forehead, and seemed to properly regain her composure. "You spent your Christmas with the Weasleys. Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" he responded excitedly. "It was great! We all went to visit Ginny's second oldest brother, Charlie. He works with dragons in Romania. I don't think I'd do it for a living, but it's so cool!"

She evidently couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. Harry felt his cheeks heat up, and Ginny giggled at him. Annoyed, he jabbed her in the ribs, making her squeak. Miss Protcham raised her eyebrows, but he just gave her an innocent look, and she grinned back at him.

"So you like all the Weasleys, then?" she asked. She was making notes on a piece of parchment she'd conjured when they sat down.

"Well, Percy's a bit uptight, but he started to loosen up a bit over the holidays," Harry began.

"It's weird, really," Ginny interjected. "He hasn't made a joke since he was ten or something, but he's been getting less … yeah, less uptight, I guess."

"Anyway, I haven't actually met Bill yet, but he's Ginny's favourite, so I don't doubt I'll get along with him," he went on. "I get along brilliantly with everyone else." He noticed Ginny smirking at him, and fought the blush with everything he had. He thought Miss Protcham might have figured something out by now, though.

"So you're going into this entirely voluntarily?" she asked. He stared at her incredulously. "Sorry, I have to ask. It's legal stuff." He nodded.

"I do want this," Harry said firmly.

 ** _'_** ** _Doesn't mean there weren't incentives, does it?'_** he asked Ginny. He just about refrained from a victory dance when her face lit up like a beacon, settling for a satisfied grin. He noticed the odd look they were being given, but ignored it.

"Well then, there's not much left to do here. But seeing as we are talking confidentially, might I ask whether there's something going on between you two? Sorry, but it looks like it, and with the amendments to the papers..." she asked.

"Um..." Harry glanced at Ginny, even though she'd already grudgingly agreed to admit to it telepathically. "Yeah, there is."

"Well then, I guess congratulations are in order," she said, grinning at Ginny. "You'll probably break dozens of hearts up and down the country."

Ginny smiled serenely.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the main interview room, Mrs Opallon had just finished her interrogation of Mr. and Mrs Weasley over their ability to support an additional child. They had successfully avoided Harry's little spending spree, and got around the funding problems through the fact that his parents had already set up a Gringotts account with Hogwarts to support him through his school career.

"Well, you seem able to support him, since he is really already taken care of, at least financially. Now, why do you want to adopt? You already have seven children of your own, after all," Mrs Opallon inquired.

"Well, he's a very close friend of our two youngest, and due to unforeseen circumstances, he cannot return to his previous home," Mrs Weasley stated. "From what we've heard, his previous guardians weren't very ... pleasant to him, and we want to give him what they didn't."

"Am I to understand, then, that you weren't looking to adopt a child, you just want to look after Harry Potter?"

Mr. Weasley sighed. He'd been waiting for this one. "No, you're right. We weren't looking to adopt just any child. We weren't looking to adopt at all. We were perfectly happy with our family. But when your daughter writes home to you, saying that her closest friend has no home, no family, and no one to go to when term ends... You tend to consider it a bit more seriously after that. We asked him to come with us for this Christmas holiday because we wanted to get to know him, and see if adoption was a good idea. He gets on wonderfully with all of our sons — apart from Bill, of course, as they haven't met. Harry is a wonderful child, _despite_ the hardships he has experienced. We have grown to have a wonderful relationship with him over the short time we've had together. We want to provide him with a home, and we want him as a part of our family."

"And you completely deny that his wealth or status has anything to do with the matter?" she asked.

There was uproar the moment the word 'wealth' left her mouth. Mrs Longbottom simply shook her head sadly.

"Completely," Mr. Weasley replied simply.

"There's no need to get so flustered over it," Mrs Opallon said wearily. "These are legal matters, and I am required to ask the required questions. Thank you, Arthur, for remaining calm. As an employee yourself, you must understand. One more question, if you will. I'm curious as to why you filed for adoption, rather than guardianship? Guardianship would still give you the right to speak for him legally..."

"I'm not sure," Mr. Weasley frowned. "I would have filed for guardianship, but Professor Dumbledore seemed to think this was a better idea. Maybe he thought that this would be healthier for Harry?"

"Perhaps," Mrs Opallon mused. "Perhaps we should trust the professor on this. He has, after all, seen many more children pass through his care than I have."

"I might as well speak up now," came Augusta Longbottom's voice from behind them. "There's not much point in me being here otherwise, and I don't waste time unless I'm enjoying it. Augusta Longbottom," she directed at Mrs Opallon. The official nodded, and Augusta rose and walked to the front. "I was close with Arthur's parents, and as such, I have known many members of the Weasley family quite well, including Arthur and Molly. Never in their lives would any Weasley do something purely for money. It is a family trait, and I'm afraid that it is why many families with less clear moral codes have a financial advantage over them. I can personally vouch that neither Molly nor Arthur would be doing this out of a desire to use the boy to further themselves. I'm quite sure, in fact, that his status is rather a nuisance to them, since it inspires questions like the one you just asked." She nodded curtly to Mrs Opallon, and sat back down.

The official smiled briefly. "Noted, Lady Longbottom. Thank you."

Neville took a deep breath, swallowed heavily, and stood. His grandmother was giving his slightly shaking legs a disapproving look. He walked forwards, quite visibly aware that everyone's eyes were on him. "I'm Neville Longbottom. I'm a friend of Harry's." Opallon nodded and made another note. "Harry is great friends with both Ron and Ginny, anyone at Hogwarts could tell you. I remember when Professor Dumbledore told Harry about how he couldn't go back to those muggles. He was so happy, and Ginny made fireworks or something when he told her. They're ... really close." Ron made a face at that. "If anyone I knew was going to take him into their family, it'd be her and Ron."

He received a brief nod as more notes were taken, and a line drawn. He sat back down gingerly and avoided his grandmother's gaze, so he didn't see anything in her expression besides the usual impatience.

"Does anyone else wish to testify as to whether or not Harry would be best raised at the Weasleys?" Mrs Opallon asked.

Ron stood, not noticing that his shirt was now at least eleven sizes too big. No one was paying any attention to the material spilling out from under his jumper. "Hi, I'm Ron — Ron Weasley. I don't reckon there's much more to say, really. We liked having him with us. He said he really liked staying with us. We all like him a lot, and he likes us, so where else would he go?"

"I am Percy Weasley," Percy butted in. Fred and George looked up, amused. "I was just wondering where Harry would be placed if he wasn't allowed to be placed with us?"

Mrs Opallon looked up. "Well, Mr. Weasley, he would become a ward of the Ministry, and would be placed in the orphanage the Ministry runs in Chelsea."

"I assume that you can guarantee that while there he will not be exposed to any irregular or extraordinary treatment based on his aforementioned status?" Percy asked. Ron was slowly blinking, trying to process what had just left his brother's mouth. Fred and George were sniggering over his language. Mr. Weasley turned and stared at his son.

"Well, any such behaviour would be for the Ministry to deal with," Opallon replied, looking curiously at Percy.

"So you do not deny that such behaviour may occur, and at such a formative time in a child's development, too. Since Harry is already comfortable with us, is that not a good reason why he shouldn't be sent off to live in an alien environment with people he does not know? Would he not naturally rather stay with people he is familiar and friendly with in a world he was only recently introduced to?" Percy went on. Fred and George had finished their sniggering, and they too were staring at their brother. They had noticed him lose some of his pompous nature. He was simply comfortable in the position he was in. He didn't need to press his authority here, and seemed to have realised that for once. He was just demonstrating it, and with lethal force from the half-approving, half-concerned look on the official's face.

"I cannot deny it. You are, of course, correct. However, I have one last question for Mr. and Mrs Weasley," Opallon replied, her lips twitching. "What was the reason for the modifications to the documents provided?"

Mr. Weasley exhaled slowly. "Well, we knew from the beginning that Harry is the last of the Potters. He deserves to carry on his family name. It is a noble house, and well respected. The tragedies that brought it to have only one surviving heir gave honour to the names of the fallen and we have no right to strip him of that heritage.

"Well, I think we can respect your privacy on this matter," Opallon said, shaking her head confusedly. It was at that moment that Miss Protcham returned with Harry and Ginny. "For now, however, I must ask you all to wait outside while my colleague and I deal with the bureaucracy."

They filed out of the room, Harry and Ginny turning to wave to Miss Protcham before they left. Mrs Weasley undid whatever the twins had done to Ron's shirt, which he was in serious danger of tripping over, but only after giving Fred and George an earful for it. They all found seats in the lobby, and settled themselves for a long wait.

* * *

"Augusta, didn't you say you had an appointment to attend to?" Mr. Weasley asked curiously. They had been waiting for nearly an hour, and some people were beginning to let their nerves show. Ginny, for one, was gripping Harry's arm a little too tightly to be comfortable.

"I must remain while Neville is here, and I believe we both wish to see the outcome. I did leave time until my appointment, but it can wait for this," she replied.

"You may come through now," the secretary announced. Everyone took a deep breath before they stood. As they walked in, Harry found himself squeezing Ginny's hand with just as much force as she'd just been exerting on his arm.

Even Fred and George looked solemn as they re-entered the interview room. They all sat down in their original places, apart from Ginny, who sat with Harry at the front.

"Well, we won't keep you waiting any longer," Miss Protcham teased, waiting a few seconds without saying anything. Fred and George laughed appreciatively, but Mrs Opallon shot her a disapproving look, and she relented. "We've approved your application. Please keep in mind that this is only a preliminary judgement. We will magically bind the contract in six months' time, so long as there are no problems. I will be coming to visit during the holidays and at school over the next few months, Harry, to see that everything is going well."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That was it then. Ginny embraced him tightly, and his mind, which had been in a state of high turbulence since the whole affair began back in November, finally quieted.

"Pending final approval, Harry James Potter, you are now a quasi-member of the House of Weasley under the parentage of Arthur William and Molly Astraea Weasley. You retain your name and inheritances as scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, and remain officially a member of that House."

A Filibuster Firework erupted overhead.

* * *

The smoke from the train was so thick, Harry wondered whether magic was the only reason they weren't all choking to death. He kept a firm grip on the small, warm hand in his left and the handle of his trunk in his right hand. A few seconds later, Harry and Ginny broke out from the low cloud cover to a clear view of Platform 9¾. Neville and Hermione were already there, chatting animatedly by one of the doors. It was a quarter to eleven, and almost everyone was on the platform. And Harry and Ginny had already lost the rest of the family in all the smoke and noise. They hurried over to their friends, dodging the odd cats that had escaped their travel baskets and excitable younger siblings of students who were running around the platform.

"Harry! Ginny! Neville just told me — I'm so happy for you, Harry!" Hermione babbled before enveloping them both in a crushing hug.

"Come on, Hermione, they need to breathe!" Ron called. The rest of the Weasleys had found them, then.

"So, um, introductions I guess," Harry said, grinning. "Mum, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is Mrs Weasley."

"Hello, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said politely.

"I hope you'll be looking after Harry and Ron," Mum replied. "From what they've told me, you're a good influence on them."

Hermione turned a little pink. "Um, I'll try, err, Mrs Weasley," she stuttered. Harry, Ginny and Neville stifled their laughter behind their hands as Hermione turned still pinker. "Um, these are my parents," she said loudly to drown out the barely muffled laughter of her friends. "Mum, Dad, this is Ron, Harry and Ginny; that's Fred and George — don't accept anything they give you; that's Percy, who's a Prefect, and this is their mother, Mrs Weasley."

The dentists they'd heard so little about looked a bit uncomfortable surrounded by so many witches and wizards.

"Pleased to meet you," Mrs Granger said.

She was a slender woman, with Hermione's brown eyes and hair. Showing the same frizziness as her daughter, Mrs Granger wore her hair in a loose ponytail, with several fuzzy strands escaping and tumbling down over her eyes. No matter what Pansy Parkinson said, if that was the look Hermione was growing into...

Hermione was only a few inches shorter than her mother, but her father was a different story. He must have been about six feet tall, with bright blue eyes that were even now gazing, spellbound, at the Hogwarts Express. Mrs Granger had to nudge him back to reality.

"Oh, um, sorry. Hello," he said. There was a chorused reply. "Ah, if you don't mind me asking ... what do wizards do to look after their teeth?"

* * *

As the train left the station, they left the carriage door they'd been waving from to find the compartment where they'd left their trunks. Except that there were a few people already occupying it.

"Ah, look. Isn't that cute?" It was Malfoy. He'd brought a few more friends than usual. Harry smirked. The sod was afraid. He had good reason to be.

"Malfoy, you can take your dumb lackeys, and you can clear your arses out of here," Ginny snarled.

"Aww, does the little Weasel want more time with her boyfriend?" Pansy simpered. "You know, I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd be able to afford a love potion."

Harry shielded his eyes. Ginny had stepped forwards, and rather like the time when she'd caused an earthquake in the Gryffindor Common Room, she seemed to be radiating an invisible light. "I think you pissed her off, Parkinson," Harry commented. The carriage was wobbling dangerously now, and they all had to work to keep their footing. He leaned forward to whisper in Ginny's ear, "Calm down, Ginny, or you'll derail the train." She seemed to shake herself out of it, but at that point, Malfoy seemed to draw on his Slytherin impulses.

" _Locomotor mortis!_ " he cried. His spell was immediately followed by _Tarantallegras_ and _Rictusempras_ from his housemates. Once again, time slowed for Harry. He could feel the threatening presences of the jinxes and hexes as they left their casters' wands. He could already determine their flight paths, and he shoved Neville and Hermione out of the way before bringing his wand to bear on the ones headed for himself and Ginny. He cast all the offensive spells he knew rapidly, marvelling at how his _Rictusempra_ swirled around Malfoy's _Locomotor Mortis_ before exploding in a shower of golden sparks.

He noticed Ron and Neville aiming for Crabbe and Goyle, and grinned. Harry wasn't the scrawny little thing that had come to Hogwarts months before. He charged at Malfoy, unaware that the time-warping was still active. As it was, all one hundred and thirty seven centimetres and thirty five kilograms of Harry James Potter slammed into Draco Malfoy at a good thirty miles per hour. The unfortunate Slytherin was thrown back into Nott and Bulstrode with some force.

"Now clear out," Ginny growled. "We won't say it again."

As if to emphasise the point, Neville's wand sparked and hissed with suppressed energy.

"No wand, Granger? Did you lose it in all that... is it even hair?" Pansy said.

Hermione didn't spare her a glance. "No, I just don't think you're worth the effort."

"No, you'll just get scarface here to save you every time," Pansy shot back.

"Well, from the state of you, I'd say he's pretty good at it," Hermione retorted.

"You know, Parkinson, I'm surprised your daddy hasn't taught you anything more dangerous yet. Does he think you're too stupid to use a decent curse?" Ginny added with a sneer to rival Malfoy's.

"Has your daddy taught you how to plant money trees yet, Weasel?" Pansy bit back.

"Yeah, it's an interesting little potion," Ginny snarled. "Needs eye of Slytherin girl."

Parkinson shrieked with laughter. "Come and get it, tramp!"

Poor Malfoy was just recovering from the first skirmish when jinxes started flying again.

"IMMOBULUS!" Hermione yelled. The spell froze them all in place. Unfortunately, she'd used the spell with such force, there'd been a bit of friendly fire. Ron and Neville, who'd been about to physically tangle with Crabbe and Goyle, were drifting slowly towards the Slytherins. Harry yanked them back before they had to endure a different kind of closeness.

"Fantastic, Hermione," Ginny smiled. "Now let's throw them out the nearest door."

The fear in their eyes was unmistakable. Malfoy grunted. Hermione looked up at him, surprised. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't break the spell's hold as quickly as he'd hoped for. She re-cast it, and released Ron and Neville, who stretched as if they'd been lying down a long time.

"I don't know about throwing them off the train," Neville grinned. "They might be found."

"Actually," said Ron, "let's leave them where they are."

They looked to him, surprised.

"What?" he asked. "Never let your enemy out of your sight."

Neville shrugged. "You're the chess guy mate."

"You're forgetting the not turning your back on them bit," Ginny remarked. "And the not hanging out your dirty linen."

"What dirty linen?" Ron asked.

The situation was resolved for them when a pair of Hufflepuff prefects showed up. A lot of quick talking and a detention each later, the Slytherins were being ushered out of the compartment. Harry could think of better ways to spend a Monday afternoon than cleaning stuff for Mr. Filch, but it had been worth it just to see the look on Malfoy's face as he smashed the little prick.

"So Hermione ... how was your holiday?" Harry asked brightly.

"Oh, it was excellent! I mean, it was really cold, but that's to be expected, isn't it? The snow was so thick, it was nothing like London. We went skiing, but I don't really think that's my thing. It's a bit too much like flying — lots of speed and not much control. No offence, but I can't really focus on controlling my momentum when I'm more worried about not falling over," she replied. Everyone was pleased that she wasn't talking quite so fast anymore.

"Well, you know, Hermione, some people are just born with those kinds of talents," Harry said, smiling to let her know he wasn't serious. "You can't learn everything from a book." The boys all laughed, while Hermione turned rather pink.

"So, what did you do in Sweden?" Ron asked. "Are there wizards there?"

He soon regretted asking, as she went off on one of her typical lectures about Sweden and its magical contingent.


	10. 10 - Survivors

A/N: This particular chapter has been updated to not be as terrible as it was in one particular way. If you can't tell what that is, it's done its job.

Harry was rather enjoying his first day back at school. It was more an evening than a day considering how long the Hogwarts Express took to get them here. Still, that only meant less time spent ignoring extra attention from the adoption.

A cry from Neville and a triumphant shout from Ron snapped Harry abruptly out of his reverie. He jumped nearly out of his skin, but they were clearly too happy to care. Ginny, on the other hand, glared at him from his shoulder.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. She'd been doing her Charms essay with her usual vigour, but when she saw what Neville held up to her, she abandoned it entirely. "You're joking! All this time it was on a chocolate frog card?"

"What was?" Harry asked. Then he gasped.

 ** _'_** ** _What, Harry?'_** Ginny asked curiously, her annoyance at being jolted like that quickly evaporating.

 ** _'_** ** _The first chocolate frog card I ever saw. It was Dumbledore's. It said he worked on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel!'_** he replied ecstatically.

Ginny dived to the ground among the piles of cards, making Ron groan in frustration. He and Neville had been sorting their cards, convinced they each had the ones the other was missing. "Show me Dumbledore's card!"

Harry shook his head in amusement. She could have just read the one Hermione had, but that would have been boring. His desperate curiosity over the mysterious Flamel was forgotten as he watched Ginny. She looked over at him, and slung the card to him; he caught it instinctively but didn't look down at it immediately. When she smiled at him, it was like butterflies had taken flight in his stomach... Harry felt his face burn and snapped his eyes down to the card. He could just _feel_ her smirking at him.

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_  
 _CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Hermione gasped aloud. "Stay here, all of you!" She sprinted off up to her dorm. Harry had never seen her move so fast. Barely two minutes later, she was back with a heavy-looking book in her arms. "I took this out of the library a few weeks ago for some light reading-"

"You call that light?" Ron interrupted. Neville elbowed him hard and muttered to him to shut up. It was an unusual sight to say the least. Ron submitted, but it was unclear whether it was out of respect or out of surprise that Neville would be so confident. Hermione looked up, blinking. She flashed Neville a smile, and went back to flicking through _'Alchemy: The Definitive Guide'_ ; Neville went beet red.

Ginny sat back in his lap. **_'You see that?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Mm-hm. Wonders never cease,'_** he replied.

 ** _'_** ** _Oh, do shut up, Harry!'_** Ginny laughed in his head. **_'That's cruel.'_**

"I've got it! Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of-" Hermione began, only to be interrupted for the second time in fewer minutes.

"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course, how could I have been so stupid!" Ginny cried. Everyone turned to look at her. She stared at Ron and Neville disbelievingly. "Hermione and Harry have valid excuses for not having heard about it. But you two! Okay, maybe we can excuse Ron — he never was the sharpest kni-"

"Shut up, Ginny!" he muttered.

"Come on! Mum said even muggles have heard of it: the stone with the power to turn any metal into gold? It lets you live forever?" Ginny pleaded with them, unable to understand their lack of comprehension.

"Oh!" Neville said, his eyes wide with the revelation.

"The sickle drops," Ginny drawled, rolling her eyes.

"I've heard the name too, actually," Hermione said softly. "I thought I'd heard it somewhere before, but I couldn't remember anything about him. I guess if I'd asked Mum and Dad they might've made the connection..."

 ** _'_** ** _Um, Ginny, why didn't we just ask your mum and dad about Flamel?'_** he asked.

 ** _'_** ** _We had plenty on our minds,'_** she replied. ** _'You can't have forgotten that cloak already.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Want to go explore under it tonight?'_** he asked.

 ** _'_** ** _We'd better. You'll need your sleep tomorrow for practice on Tuesday,'_** Ginny said.

 ** _'_** ** _Yes, Mum,'_** he replied.

 ** _'_** ** _Oh, you are so going to pay,'_** she growled.

 ** _'_** ** _I'm looking forward to it.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Prat,'_** she snorted.

"A philosopher's stone sounds like plenty to warrant a three-headed dog as its guard..." Hermione mused.

"Come on Hermione, tell us what's going on in there," Ginny teased.

"Well, we could all feel the compulsion charms and whatever else the professors put on that corridor. I was just wondering what else they used to guard it. I mean, I'm pretty sure that a qualified wizard could get past that thing," Hermione said.

"Not to burst your bubble or anything," Neville began with a grin, "but I don't think that's a homework project you'd want to work on, Hermione."

"I could handle that thing," Hermione sniffed.

"Anyway, if Snape gets past that dog, we'd better hope that those other protections are powerful," Harry said solemnly.

"Hopefully, they'll be quite violent, too," Ginny added with an odd glint in her eye.

"Ginny! He's a Professor!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Have you even seen the way he treats Harry?" she shot back.

"Well, that's beside the point," Hermione said.

"I know," said Harry. "The point is, if the git does something that gets him beaten up in there, I doubt he'll be doing much that's worthy of a _professor_."

* * *

Harry lay fully dressed in his four-poster, his wand held loosely in his hand, and the cloak hanging suspended in mid-air above him. He made it spin and swirl gently, looking at it from every angle. _'It was my dad's.'_ He released the Levitation Charm, and the cloak drifted downwards, rippling as it went. As soon as it touched him, it disappeared, taking a large portion of his body with it.

 _Use it well._

What qualified as using this well? He didn't even know who'd sent it. He pulled the note out from under his pillow, knowing he wouldn't be able to recognise the writing any better than the last fifty times he'd read it. Still, he read it over and over again. Sometimes he would skim it through, hearing the words from his memory more prominently than comprehending the loopy lines on the parchment. Other times, he looked so closely, he could see the stray bit of ink that had flown off the quill as the 'i' in 'it' was dotted. Surely all the staff at this school had been around long enough to have known his parents if Hagrid knew them. He only looked about forty. Then again, he was inhumanly tall, so maybe aging didn't work the same way for him either. But even still, if it had been a professor, why would they give him an invisibility cloak? He was an eleven-year-old boy. If it had been Seamus that received it, he'd have already started terrorising the girls with it.

When the boy in question finally went to sleep, Harry slid the note back under his pillow, and put aside the cloak. Using charms rather than hands to slide open his curtains, he slid silently out of the bed. He pulled the cloak about himself and shut the curtains of the four-poster behind him. The whole castle was open to them tonight.

He padded silently down the stone steps. Whispers and laughter reached out to him from behind wooden doors as the older students discussed their Christmases. Ginny was on the move now, too. He waited at the bottom of the girls' staircase for her to appear. Seconds later, she was right in front of him.

All of a sudden, she stopped, and looked him square in the eyes. "You breathe far too loudly, Harry," she admonished lightly. He jumped, stumbling backwards, and she had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. Harry had a little difficulty regaining his footing, for the cloak formed a trip hazard all on its own and slightly distorted his vision just as an added bonus. He gave up, choosing to grab her arm and pull her down with him instead.

She gasped as his invisible hand yanked at her. But at the last second, he rolled away, desperately trying to contain his mirth. The look on her face as she reached out and felt only air was priceless. She stood slowly, her face unreadable.

"Harry..." she whispered. She extended her hand, palm up, and produced a little fountain of water, which began collecting above her head. "You don't want me to _make_ you show yourself, do you?" Her evil little grin told him in no uncertain terms that the threat was genuine.

Eyes wide, he dived behind a couch as the water flew outwards. The fire that lit the room day and night was doused, and darkness fell.

"Drat!" she cursed. A few seconds later, fire was once again blazing in the hearth. Harry used the time to creep slowly up behind her. Every sound his body produced as it moved was amplified in his head, but she didn't seem to notice him. When he was just behind her, he threw the cloak to cover both of them, making her jump and spin around. If he'd been paying more attention, Harry might have noticed the peculiar way she was holding herself. As it was, the only warning he got was the mischievous glint in her eyes before he was blasted right in the face.

"Oomph!" he grunted, staggering backwards.

"We're even," she stated calmly.

Blinking the water out of his eyes, Harry glared at her. She smirked back, and after a couple of seconds he realised that he had to back down. If he carried this on, they'd still be here when Percy and Claudia returned from prefect patrol. Biting the inside of his lip to halt the satisfied smile that Ginny's emotions were inspiring, he grabbed her hand.

 ** _'_** ** _Are we going or not?'_** Harry said.

 ** _'_** ** _I guess. Wish you'd have fought back.'_**

He rolled his eyes and led his grinning girlfriend out of the common room. The castle was eerily quiet this late at night, and the muffled sounds of their shoes on the carpet were deafening. The Gryffindor access corridor took them out to the seventh floor south main corridor, which swept around towards the hospital wing in one direction and up to the eastern section and the Astronomy Tower in the other direction. Choosing the eastern path, they kept low profiles, keeping to the side of the corridor and slowing at each door and intersection to check carefully for prefects or teachers.

They didn't get far before they came across the first patrol. They flattened themselves against the wall, waiting with bated breath for Professor Sinistra to pass them by. Or rather, Harry did. He could feel Ginny's rapid, shallow breathing on the back of his neck, and it was quickly becoming a major distraction.

The professor sighed softly, turning to gaze up through the window. Harry's breath caught as he refilled his aching lungs, and the professor spun round to look at them, her dark hair whipping across her face. Pinned by her stare, the two of them momentarily forgot they were invisible, freezing in place where they stood. Harry began counting to a hundred slowly in his head. He was sure the professor would be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. As the resident stargazer began to move slowly toward the origin of the disturbance, Ginny returned to Earth and gently began tugging Harry away.

 ** _'_** ** _So, where do you want to go?'_** Harry asked casually. Now that they were out here, the sheer scale of the castle was overwhelming. They were simply spoilt for choice.

 ** _'How about we just walk, and go wherever we end up?'_**

* * *

Harry had been hoping that no one would find out about his adoption. He didn't want the attention, and he'd doubted people would be nice about it. The fact of the matter was that he was rich and famous whereas the Weasleys weren't. Gossip channels picked up on that kind of thing, as ten years with Petunia Dursley had taught him.

His fears were confirmed the very first morning. As soon as he saw a picture of himself and Ginny on the front page of the Daily Prophet, he knew it couldn't be good. Seamus grimaced and tossed his copy over to Harry. Harry gave it a cursory look and threw it straight back.

"I can't fucking believe it!" Ron snarled.

"Ron?!" Hermione hissed anxiously.

"I won't _watch my language_ , Hermione," Ron said. "Have you seen this bollocks?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," she said. "It's horrible. But swearing and yelling about it won't help, and you'll just end up getting into trouble."

"I've got to do something!" said Ron vehemently, staring at a sausage he'd rendered an unrecognisable mess on his plate.

"Ron, Hermione's right," Ginny said softly. "Revenge won't help us. Besides, what would we do? We're just schoolkids."

"The girls are talking sense, Ron," said Seamus. "Don't do somethin' stupid."

"We're all behind you, you know," Dean added.

"Yeah," called Fay and Rionach, the other girl in Hermione and Ginny's dorm.

"Ginny..."

Harry turned and noticed that Lavender and Parvati had appeared behind them. Parvati was whispering something in Ginny's ear, and from the look on her face he could get an idea of what Parvati was saying. Ginny glanced across at the Slytherin table, bit her lip and shook her head.

"That'd be pretty great, Parvati, but..."

"Don't worry about it," Parvati said. "But if you change your mind..."

"Thanks," Ginny replied.

Besides the handful of Gryffindors they actually knew, though, it seemed the entire school was whispering behind their backs. That was background noise until they went to Potions. He knew that something bad was going to happen as soon as he saw the smirk on Malfoy's face.

As they sat down ready to start, Malfoy was whispering something in Pansy's ear. Her barely restrained giggling was the second warning. Harry gritted his teeth and scanned the rest of the Slytherins for trouble. Daphne Greengrass was at the next table, watching Malfoy and Parkinson with a raised eyebrow. He hated that about her. He could never tell what the girl was thinking. Was she interested in what Malfoy was saying, or was she keeping her derision silent? Was she, in fact, completely impartial and simply exercising a morbid curiosity to see what new conflicts might erupt between the groups?

Harry shook his head and moved to a new target. Crabbe. _'Pfff...'_

When the professor entered, the almost gleeful look on his face told Harry all he needed to know. Harry slumped in his chair and tried to figure out how to get Ron's wand away from him without his friend knowing. Ron would be screwed if he tried to hex Snape.

It began with registration. Snape missed Harry's name completely, and he had an idea what was coming.

"I trust you wish to be listed as a Weasley, now, don't you?" the professor sneered. A snigger went up from the Slytherins.

"I'm sorry, sir?" Harry asked. Ron's ears were beginning to turn pink.

"You have been adopted, Potter. You are a Weasley," said Snape.

"Not as far as I know, professor," Harry replied.

"Really?" Snape asked. "I congratulate you on keeping the great honours of your family name. Tell me then, Potter, how much of your family fortune have you most graciously shared with your new guardians?"

Mrs Weasley's despair at his behaviour in Exeter returned to him in flashes. Snape's mouth was moving, but Harry couldn't hear the words. He felt ashamed suddenly. The Weasleys were the nicest people he'd ever known, and he'd forced upon them the very thing which had the rest of the Wizarding community sneering at them - his wealth.

Harry looked around at Malfoy. The blond boy was reclining slightly in his seat, looking at Harry with an almost predatory expression.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you, Potter," Snape drawled. "That will be two points from Gryffindor for poor manners."

Harry's head snapped around. In this sudden void of emotion, he found a wellspring of anger. He was about to give Snape a piece of his mind when he felt Hermione's hand on his. He turned to her instead, and she shook her head slightly. Harry turned back to Snape, and saw the satisfaction in those cold, dark eyes.

 _'_ _He's playing you.'_

 _'_ _He can't be allowed to do this.'_

 _'_ _How would you prove anything?'_

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry ground out. His throat was uncomfortably tight and warm, and he noticed that his quill had broken in his hand. "Next time you want to insult me or my friends I'll be more receptive."

Snape's face contorted with anger. Hermione gasped beside him and squeezed his hand. Harry didn't care. If Snape wanted to take him to Dumbledore or McGonagall about it, he'd have to explain what Harry meant by the comment, wouldn't he?

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled. "You will serve ten days of detention with Mr. Filch. Perhaps that will teach you some humility."

Harry cringed slightly. That was a pretty hefty punishment, and everyone knew how much Filch, the caretaker, hated the students. Harry had some first hand experience of it from previous time spent in detention. But as he saw the rage in Snape's eyes, he felt that there was something he was missing here - there was more to Snape's hatred of him. There was definitely something that Hagrid wasn't telling him.

Morning break was an uncomfortable affair. It seemed that his outburst had only fanned the flames of the rumour mill. When the tenth person whispered her name a little too loudly, Ginny jumped to her feet and led them down to Herbology without so much as a backward glance, even though she wasn't actually attending the class. The Hufflepuffs in their year were generally better than the majority of the school, but Ernie and Zach were exactly the opposite of supportive. Susan offered him a kindly smile, though. Susan... Harry remembered Ginny mentioning her.

 _She lost all but one of her family to him._

When Professor Sprout finished lecturing them about the uses of the Fire-Making Charm in the management of both magical and mundane plants, Harry made sure he was one of the first out of the greenhouse.

"Hey, Susan," he called as she left. She was a quiet girl, and a bit of a loner — Harry had only ever seen her with Hannah Abbott, and that wasn't too often.

"Hello," she said softly.

Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what exactly to say. What do you say in this situation? 'Hey, both our families were slaughtered in the war, wanna talk about it?' It suddenly seemed like a stupid, impulsive decision.

"Ginny said you might try to talk to me," she added. He hadn't realised how long and awkward the silence had been.

"She did?" he said blankly.

"Yes," she nodded. She wasn't meeting his eyes. Rather, her hazel eyes were fixed on the Hogwarts crest embroidered on his robe.

"So, uh..." said Harry. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"She predicted that too," Susan sighed. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"How about the boathouse?" Harry suggested. "I've not explored that yet."

"What have you explored?" Susan asked, smiling slightly.

"Oh, I don't know, Susan," Harry said contemplatively. They set off slowly around the back of the castle towards the boathouse. "I don't think I should tell you. For your own safety."

She snorted delicately. "Right. Let me guess, you've been to the third floor corridor?"

Harry turned to stare at her as they reached the gravel path. "How did you...?"

She hadn't known. He could see that much in her disbelieving stare.

"Dammit," Harry cursed. He didn't know how much trouble they might get into if Susan told on them, but he doubted it would be ten detentions with Filch.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she squeaked. "Dumbledore said..."

"Dumbledore was right," Harry said. "Do you promise not to tell _anyone_?"

"I..."

"Please, Susan," Harry pleaded. "We didn't do any harm..."

"We?" Susan sounded a little faint. She was certainly looking pale. "Ginny went too, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed reluctantly. "She's probably the only reason we didn't get eaten."

"Eaten?!" she shrieked.

"Shh," Harry hissed. "Someone'll hear."

"Harry, are you saying there's some kind of monster in there?" Susan asked.

"This was a really, really bad idea," Harry muttered.

"Sorry, you weren't even going to tell me," Susan said, pulling nervously at her bright copper braid.

"Just promise you won't tell anyone," Harry urged.

"I promise," she said. They walked the rest of the way to the boathouse in a silence that was broken only by the piercing calls of the dark birds flying around the glittering black lake.

The boathouse was a large, wooden hut with only one room, if it could be called a room. It was open to the lake at the front, and the dock to either side extended into the boathouse, following the path of the exterior walls. This left a significant space in the middle which was really just sheltered lake, allowing the boats tied up under the ceiling to be dropped straight onto the water.

Susan sat down carefully at the edge of the dock, dangling her legs over the side.

"Just so you know," Harry said idly, "I can't swim. So try not to fall in."

She turned to him, meeting his eyes for the first time. Her bangs hung low like a sheer curtain over her eyes as she smirked up at him. "I won't."

Harry sat next to her, but kept his feet clear of the edge, tucking his knees up to his chin. A cold wind rippled his robes and made his jet black hair fly about his face like a wild thing.

"I'm sorry about the hell the other students have been giving you," said Susan.

Harry grunted. "Not your fault."

"No," Susan agreed. "But Ginny's always saying I should speak my mind a bit more. My Aunt too, as a matter of fact… Maybe I _could_ do something to help."

"I appreciate the thought, really," said Harry, smiling wryly. "But I reckon if anybody said anything it'd just draw more attention to it."

"Maybe you're right," said Susan. "I just don't know how you stand it."

"We aren't, as far as I can tell," Harry sighed.

Susan's face showed a sudden realisation, and she dropped the subject.

"You know, Ginny seems to rather like you," Harry said, grinning. "She's mentioned a few times that I should meet you."

"It's the red hair," said Susan nonchalantly. "We all know each other."

Harry snorted, turning an amused eye on the Hufflepuff. That would be it. "Did you meet her before Hogwarts?"

"Gods no," Susan laughed. "I think I'd left the house about four times before Hogwarts, and half of those were formal Ministry functions."

"Sounds great," said Harry.

They shared a look, and both began to laugh. If only this was all Ginny had been talking about. Sharing laughter with people was probably the most magical thing Hogwarts had given him.

"How about you?" said Susan. "an adventurous childhood for the Boy Who Lived? Dragons and maidens and pure white steeds?"

"Why do I get the impression nothing I said would make the slightest bit of difference?" said Harry.

"Hmm," said Susan. "You may have a point. Everybody was raised on one Harry Potter story or another. At least they're flattering."

Harry grunted noncommittally, but Susan's smile was teasing. "Professor _Snape_ certainly doesn't feel that way."

"Ah...ha," Susan chuckled. "I've heard about how fond he is of you."

"Yeah, like a hole in the head," Harry griped.

"He's a nasty piece of work," Susan shrugged. "I don't think he's as bad with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but I do my best not to let him notice me."

"If you've got the option," Harry sighed. "Personally I'd like to pour Swelling Solution up his ar-"

"Harry!" Susan giggled.

"But no, I didn't get out much either," said Harry softly. "Say, have you visited the walkway outside the sixth floor corridor?"

They whiled away much of the break period with idle chatter, though eventually they got around to the subject of her aunt.

"I swear the only reason she even started taking me to the damned Yule Ball was to have a reason to escape now and then," Susan said, half-amused, half-fuming.

"She sounds really protective," said Harry.

Susan nodded, softening. "Yeah. I understand, really, it's just… I don't want to live the rest of my life in the… the shadow of what happened in the war."

Harry looked at her. Staring at her hands, Susan looked a little surprised. Perhaps she had never tried putting her feelings into words before. Harry somehow doubted it. Why would Ginny, inquisitive as she was, have spared Susan when she so ruthlessly dredged up _his_ past? As his mind worked this problem over, Susan looked up at him.

"That's why you hate all the Boy Who Lived attention so much, isn't it?" she said. "It's like a storm cloud still hanging over you. And you can't escape."

Harry looked away, out over the lake. "I don't even remember them."

"I remember," Susan muttered.

"What happened?" said Harry. "Sorry, I just… Everyone seems to know my story, or my parents'... I didn't even know what happened to them until Hagrid told me."

Susan did not say anything, and Harry found himself unwilling to say more. So, they simply sat and watched the small waves ripple across the surface of the lake. Harry's thoughts began to drift with the breeze...

"It's okay, we won't hurt you," Susan cooed.

Harry stared at the little bird as it swam slowly towards Susan. It was a very dark creature — probably one of the birds that had been flying above the lake earlier. The wings were like patchwork, though, with white squares patterned into the black, and its breast was like freshly fallen snow. Those wings were outstretched now, and flapped furiously as the bird took off from the surface of the water, sparkling drops rolling off its feathers in a shimmering screen. Harry hadn't paid much attention to how birds flew before, but as the creature came in to land on Susan's far side, he couldn't help but relate. It reclined just as he would, offering a large profile to increase drag, flapping to reduce impact speed just as he would apply forward thrust to negate his own.

It was staring back at him now with one round, brown eye. Susan smiled at him.

"I think she's scared of you," she said softly.

"Yeah?" Harry replied just as softly. "Why isn't she afraid of you?"

Susan shrugged slowly. "I've always had a way with animals."

The bird flapped up to Susan's arm, turning its head to keep staring at Harry.

"Isn't she pretty?" Susan asked, softly stroking the back of its neck.

"What?" said Harry. "Yeah."

Neither of them said anything for a while. Susan's bird looked up at her one more time before turning and flying off.

"Fourteen, Harry," she said at last.

Harry looked at her blankly, having lost his focus.

"Fourteen Boneses died in the last war."

Her voice was tight, but she didn't seem weepy at all. Maybe she was all cried out. Harry couldn't say he'd ever cried over his parents, but whenever he'd been particularly badly injured and lain in his cupboard wishing desperately to be rescued from his little hell, he had felt the way she seemed to feel now. Defeated.

"The Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones," she said bitterly.

"I'm sorry for bringing this up," Harry said earnestly. "I didn't..."

"Well, like I said, this wasn't a surprise," Susan sighed. "Auntie Amelia came to get me herself, you know. She was Head of Aurors at the time, but Death Eaters had gotten into the Ministry and were messing everything up, so she couldn't order the Aurors that weren't with her. She sent teams to help defend St. Mungo's Hospital and retake the Ministry, and came to check on the manor herself."

"She sounds really brave," Harry said encouragingly.

"Yeah," Susan said softly. "She's brilliant. But she was too late. They'd killed Dad. She said they killed Mum too, but I found the old newspapers..."

She turned back to him then, and there was a haunted look in her eyes that felt like a knife in his gut. "She was pregnant, and... Auntie Amelia said it was the only time she ever used the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry didn't know exactly what Susan was implying, but he realised that his parents had gotten off lucky. According to Hagrid, Voldemort had just used the Killing Curse on them. They hadn't been tortured or anything.

"They were looking for me when she arrived," Susan muttered. "I don't remember much besides the flashing lights."

"Me too," he confessed. "I dream about it now and then. There's just this bright green flash. I never realised why it scared me so much before people told me about, you know..."

"Yeah, I didn't think you knew much about wizards and magic," Susan mused.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You're the last of your House," Susan explained. "If you'd been raised as a Potter, you'd have come wearing your family signet ring or something."

"I have a family signet ring?" said Harry bemusedly.

"Well, it doesn't matter really," Susan shrugged. "If you don't have all that stuff already you probably won't get it until you're seventeen."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, rapidly realising that she was right. Six months in and he was still as clueless as ever.

"Age of majority," she said. "You become an adult."

Well, that made sense, at least. It explained why there had been reference to him turning seventeen in the adoption papers.

"What about you?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Eventually you're going to inherit all that stuff as well, right?"

"It can rot," she swore vehemently. "I don't want to know."

"But your House..." Harry said quietly.

"Will die," Susan agreed in such an acerbic tone that Harry leaned back slightly. "And You-Know-Who wins. Well, bugger that. He already won. He won when those sick bastards turned what was left of my mother into an inferius after they raped her to send her looking for me. I can still hear her v-voice!"

The tears were flowing now. She'd said too much, or more than she'd wanted to. Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure what rape was, let alone an inferius.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. It was pathetic and meaningless, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything else. Susan looked up at him then, her brown-green eyes swimming in her misery. And Harry took her in his arms and held her. She was delicate and soft, like Ginny, but shook in her grief in a way that he had never known Ginny to.

"D-Dumbled-dore d-doesn't think he's... g-g-gone," Susan faltered. "Auntie... A-Amelia t-t-t-told me s-so."

Harry's scar twinged slightly, and he turned to look up at the castle. A few people were staring down at them from the courtyard.

"Sh-she w-w-wants me t-to tra-ain as an A-auror," Susan continued, sobbing violently now and choking. Harry rubbed her back slowly in what he hoped was a consoling manner. "She w-wants m-m-me t-to b-be able to f-fight if they c-c... come for me."

"I won't let them," Harry said with a bravery he didn't know he had. He wasn't sure how, but he wasn't going to allow Susan to suffer any more than she already had.

* * *

Harry was actually hopeful on Tuesday. The whispering certainly hadn't stopped, but it wasn't anything more than that. Susan had recovered by lunchtime yesterday, and she gave him a wan smile across the Great Hall at breakfast.

' ** _You talked to her?'_** Ginny asked.

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah,'_** Harry said. **_'Ginny, what's-?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Don't ask,'_** she said fervently. **_'Just don't.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Anyway, yeah, I'm sorry for breaking down like that about Mum back in the hospital wing'_** said Harry.

Ginny looked at him strangely for a moment before catching on. ** _'You don't have to apologise. You were going through a lot. I don't know if I would've been any better.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _True,'_** Harry smiled. **_'You probably would've blown the place up.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Hey!'_** Ginny cried. Harry winced slightly — having someone yell in your head wasn't particularly pleasant. **_'Well, maybe, but I'm trying to help you here..."_**

Harry looked into those big brown eyes as she pouted up at him and sighed dramatically. **_'You know, if you use that too much I might overcome it some day.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Some day,'_** she agreed, giggling.

The mood all changed halfway through double Defence. While Professor Quirrell was being his normal, nervous self, Malfoy had chucked a balled-up piece of paper at Ron. Hermione tried to snatch it from him, but she wasn't quick or strong enough.

Ron had leapt to his feet. He dropped his wand accidentally, but that didn't remove the murder from his eyes. It had taken some exceptionally quick thinking from Neville (and the fact that Ron couldn't break Neville's and Hermione's grip) to keep Quirrell from recognising Ron's intent and detaining him.

"Ron, I'm so sorry!" Neville cried, while discretely grabbing a tighter hold on his robes.

"W-w-what's the m-m-matter, b-b-b-boys?" the professor stuttered.

"I'm really sorry, Professor," Neville gasped. Ron was putting up quite the fight. Hermione tried to kick him in the shins to break his determination, but she caught Neville instead. She mouthed a desperate 'sorry' as Neville's eyes watered. "My wand did something to Ron's leg. I left it in my pocket, but..."

They hadn't been watching Harry. He'd taken the note when Ron had dropped it, and he entirely lost track of the commotion.

You know, the Weasleys have never had two sickles to rub together, but I've never heard of them whoring out their daughters before. That's probably because they've never had daughters before, right?

All he could see was Malfoy's contemptuous smirk. He got up, sending his chair flying backwards. The silence was deafening.

Someone screamed.

Bright lights were flickering somewhere. All sound melted into a low buzz in Harry's ears.

"Let's go, right now," Harry snarled.

Malfoy wasn't smirking anymore. Harry could hear a fizzling noise from somewhere. As he raised a hand to gesture for Malfoy to stand up, he finally noticed the electric currents surging around it, crackling and discharging randomly. His anger fizzled out, and there was a sound like a thunderclap as the lightning discharged into the floor, the walls, Malfoy's book... The masonry took the blast with little more than dust clouds, but Malfoy's book burst into flames, along with the table beneath it.

Harry was exhausted. All of a sudden he could barely stay standing, where just a moment ago he'd been ready to punch Draco Malfoy into next week. Looking around, he saw that his chair had smashed into Seamus and Dean's table, and they were taking cover underneath. Professor Quirrell actually had his wand in his hand, though it was only pointed at the floor. It seemed that he had put out the fire, but he looked... afraid? No, that was...

Pain seized him, ripping through his scar. Harry stumbled back towards Hermione and the others, confused by the sudden jolt to his forehead. Neville took him by the arm and recovered his chair. Nobody breathed a word through all of this, simply watching in shocked silence. Harry broke the silence seconds later, groaning silently and flexing his fingers, which were feeling a bit tingly.

Quirrell was still staring at him, and still had his wand out. Harry stared back.

"Harry..." Hermione whispered into his ear.

"Ten points from G-Gryffindor. N-now gytrashes are f-found in d-dark w-w-woodland areas," Quirrell said, breaking the silence. It seemed off to Harry though. "Our Fo-F-Forbidden Forest is h-home t-t-to a great many of them."

He was still staring at Harry, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Quirrell didn't stare. He was too nervous and anxious for confrontation. _'Is he threatening me?'_

* * *

Ginny was more than equal to Pansy Parkinson's and Carina Rayne's jibes, but the ordeal definitely seemed to be wearing on her. The problem here was, it wasn't just a couple of idiot Slytherins throwing a few words here and there. The whole school seemed to be looking at them oddly. The rest of Gryffindor remained largely neutral, of course. That certainly helped, and Harry was getting slowly used to ignoring people staring at him anyway.

Ron, on the other hand, had an incredibly short fuse. It took gargantuan efforts from his friends and family to keep him from hexing Slytherins in the hallways. He was dealing with the strain by running to the dorm at every opportunity to hex and beat his pillows to a feathery mess. They'd be mysteriously returned to their normal state an hour or so later. Ginny thought it was probably house-elves.

The poor guy was actually getting rather paranoid, scolding his younger siblings at any public displays of affection. Harry was starting to worry about him. He didn't want Ron to get in trouble over this. He most certainly didn't want Malfoy to get the satisfaction, and Harry'd been more than lucky to get away with attacking him in front of a teacher. When they discussed it later, the only explanation anyone could come up with was that Quirrell had been so intimidated by Harry's display that he was afraid to do more than take points.

At least Harry had Quidditch to take his mind off things. Flying always focused him perfectly, and he forgot all his worries above fifty feet. Wood was working them harder and longer, desperate for a victory against Hufflepuff. Harry was part of a very small minority supporting Oliver's inhuman drive, for it was better to improve his physique and Quidditch skills than to hide in Gryffindor tower like a fugitive.

However, it was at Quidditch practice where his mood finally collapsed. Oliver had come onto the pitch looking so grim Harry thought he'd finally gotten into a duel over a match. He certainly took Quidditch seriously enough. But he hadn't. Fred, who'd been pretending to fall off his broom, actually did fall off and got up coughing up mud. Angelina looked about ready to hit something. Harry did. When he kicked the ground, mud flew everywhere, and gave Fred a second coating.

Professor Severus Snape was refereeing the next game.

Ginny had told him that whoever had been cursing his broom in the last game had definitely been in the teacher's stands. She couldn't say for sure who had been doing it, but she hadn't needed to. Only one teacher hated Harry that much.

* * *

"Err, Harry, say that with a straight face," Ron pleaded.

"He's not joking. Gryffindor is screwed," Ginny moaned.

"Don't play, Harry!" Hermione cried.

He sighed. It wasn't as if that hadn't crossed his mind. Gryffindor was more important though, and without a Seeker, they'd have to forfeit. "There's no reserve to take my place. I've got no choice."

"So exactly how do we get around Hufflepuff getting their greatest victory over Gryffindor in Quidditch history?" Ron said dejectedly.

"I'll be there to watch your back, Harry," Ginny said, smiling.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," he replied. He looked around the common room. "Um, where's..."

The portrait hole opened, and someone fell through it.

"Neville!" Hermione cried. "What happened? Oh, _locomotor reddere motus_ ," she incanted hurriedly, noticing the odd, faint glow at his knees and ankles. The glow turned from purple to yellow before dissipating.

"Malfoy," Neville almost spat. "He wasn't alone, obviously. He said something about needing practice."

"That's believable enough," Hermione said. There was no venom in the statement, but everyone grinned.

Harry helped Neville to his feet, patted him on the back, and looked to his girlfriend. She smiled almost evilly, before nodding and setting off to find the twins.

"Sorry, mate, but we haven't got much in the way of stuff to cheer you up," Ron said dully.

"Ron, you haven't forgotten what George did to Fred already, have you?" Harry asked incredulously, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Nothing can make up for Snape refereeing your next Quidditch game, Harry," Ron replied.

Neville was speechless. For a while, he just stood staring at Harry with eyes wide in shock. "You don't think he'd be stupid enough to try something with other Professors there watching, do you?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. It was clear from the look in their eyes exactly what they thought Snape to be capable of.

* * *

Friday morning started tense. Seamus and Dean offered the trio sympathetic grimaces as they slid out of bed. Even the warmth and comfort of the four poster bed he allowed in couldn't settle Harry.

The five friends steeled themselves as they walked towards the Great Hall. Just as with the previous day, they were met with stares, smirks and sneers. Neville and Hermione didn't allow their eyes to stray from the Gryffindor table, while the other three returned any harsh looks with challenging stares of their own. After staring down what felt like half the school, they finally were able to sit and eat in peace.

With a crash, something sent Harry's bacon and eggs flying. Half the Gryffindor table tracked the grey missile as it sent people's breakfasts everywhere. Two people groaned; two people blinked; Harry laughed uproariously.

"Errol!" Ron moaned.

Harry got up and retrieved the semi-conscious owl while trying to contain himself. He gave the owl to Ron to tend to, before tenderly opening his first correspondence from his new parents.

Dear Harry,

I do hope that the three of you haven't been given too much trouble. If anyone does try to make trouble, just go to Professor McGonagall. It's not worth descending to their level.

You'll need to tell everyone that Professor Dumbledore dropped by over the holidays to erect new wards. At the moment, they only recognise members of the family, so please warn your friends about them before inviting them over. Arthur will be able to key people into the wards, so we'll just need to plan visits.

Now about this television set - I understand that your intentions were noble, Harry, but I want to be clear that this is a one-time thing. I don't want you spending your inheritance on us randomly. It isn't right.

Give everyone my love, and take good care of my daughter, young man!

Love,

Mum

Harry bit his lip nervously. He knew that Mrs Weasley hadn't been happy with the amount of money he'd been spending on them, but... If he was truly honest with himself, he just couldn't think of anything else he might be able to offer them for the love he'd been shown.

He sat down heavily, and didn't notice the familiar, soft warmth of Ginny's hand slipping into his. He did hear her gasp, though, as she caught his train of thought.

 ** _'_** ** _Harry! How could you think something like that?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Harry,'_** she sighed. **_'Can you even begin to understand the significance of Mum letting you spend anything at all on us? Look at everyone. Now imagine if they_** **knew** ** _you'd been spending money on us.'_**

Harry moved to interrupt, but her thoughts wrestled his into submission.

 ** _'_** ** _She doesn't have a clue what it's like to grow up somewhere nobody wants you; none of us do. But she understands that you'll need time to adjust, and she's trying to help you adjust smoothly. To that end, she is willing to suffer the insult of accepting charity.'_**

The comment was harsh, and his cheeks burned from the impact. **_'It was a gift! As much to me as any of you!'_** he shot back.

Ginny smiled slightly in sympathy. **_'But that's not the way she sees it. Harry, you must understand. Mum and Dad have known you for a matter of weeks. That's ridiculously fast for an adoption. It's the way they are. They wouldn't turn anyone away. But the idea of accepting gifts like yours from someone they barely know is repugnant. They would never accept what you've given us even from Bill.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _But, what am I supposed to do?'_** he replied, his anger draining.

 ** _'_** ** _Would it be too much to ask that you love them in return?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _But... it wouldn't be the same. They don't... don't...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Need it?'_** she suggested. At his hesitant nod, she gave him a brief hug. ** _'Harry, you're really sweet, but you're a complete idiot sometimes. You don't think it might make them happy to see you grow up, and to do well because of how they raised you? Why else does anyone have children?'_**

The tension evaporated like so much hot tea. But one pair of brown eyes scoured their faces hungrily for any detail that might be important. Harry smiled weakly, and began serving himself a new plate.

* * *

"So, I wanted to show you all something."

They had all gathered round in an abandoned classroom on the third floor. Their dorm room might have been more private, but Ginny probably spent too much time there already.

"I got this as a Christmas present," said Harry. "There _was_ a note, but he didn't say who it was from, only that I should 'use it well'."

"Well, go on then," said Ron excitedly. "What is it?"

Instead of replying, Harry simply pulled out the invisibility cloak and draped it around his shoulders.

"Bloody hell!" Ron and Ginny chorused. Ginny had agreed to pretend that she hadn't seen it before so as to prevent hurting anyone's feelings.

"Harry, that's a…" Neville began.

"Invisibility cloak!" Ron exclaimed.

"Not so loud," Harry grinned.

"Harry, those are unbelievably rare," Ginny breathed.

"Who would have given you something like that?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch his invisible arm.

"No idea," Harry admitted.

"Maybe one of your dad's old friends?" Neville suggested.

"Funny you should say that actually," said Harry. "The note also said that my dad left the cloak in the person's possession before he died."

"Sorry," Neville muttered.

"Don't worry about it," said Harry.

"Your dad was pretty popular though," said Ginny, contrite. "It could have been anybody."

"Not anybody," Neville said slowly. "It had to be someone he could trust — someone close to him."

"Someone with elaborate, loopy writing," Harry mused.

"Dumbledore?" said Hermione.

They all shared looks.

Ron began to laugh. "Imagine if it was," he chortled. "All the stuff we get up to, we can blame it on him."

Hermione glared at him, but the rest of them shared smirks. They all knew that the cloak would see a lot of use at Hogwarts.

* * *

"I've got an idea for a game," Harry said.

"What's that, then, Harry?" Katie asked, dismounting next to him.

"Yeah, let's hear it," George grinned.

"Unless it's just for the girls," Fred amended. Harry glared at him, but he just winked back.

Unclenching his teeth, Harry addressed Katie alone. "It."

"Flying tag," Katie grinned. Katie Bell was a half-blood, like himself, so she'd probably gone to muggle school.

"He calls that an _idea_?" Fred scoffed.

"Harry, we've been playing aerial tag..." said George.

"... Since we were six years old," Fred finished.

"Well, I haven't," Harry retorted. "Let's dance."

"Woah there, Harry," George said.

"Don't you think you've got us..."

"... At a disadvantage here?"

The twins gave his Nimbus a pointed look.

"Hey, Oliver?" Katie called.

Wood, who was already heading down to the Gryffindor changing rooms, turned and cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Can we borrow your broom please?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"What're you lot up to?" Wood sighed.

"We just want to play a game of tag without Harry destroying us with his incredible broomstick," Katie explained. Fred snorted loudly. "Oh, piss off you two, you're disgusting."

"Yeah, sure," Oliver said. "But Harry, you do any damage to that broom and I'll do the same to you. Twice."

"Um, cheers, Oliver," said Harry, imagining Oliver holding him down and scratching off his paintwork.

"Can we borrow your broom, please?" Fred mocked, doing an almost painful falsetto impression.

"Oi, it would've been fine like that if the two of you hadn't been there," Katie said. "He probably thought you wanted to jinx it or something."

"If we wanted to jinx Oliver's broom..."

"... We wouldn't have needed your help."

"Yeah, that's true enough," Katie agreed. "Now, are we going to play or what?"

"Hey," Ron called. Harry'd forgotten he was here.

"Here, Ron," Harry said, throwing him the Nimbus.

"You sure, Harry?" Fred grinned.

"You might not get the whole thing back," said George.

Ron just glared at Fred.

Sensing the rising tensions, Harry decided to move things along. "Well, he's never damaged the Nimbus before. Go on, Ron. You're it."

* * *

Harry breathed easy as they lay by the lake. Hermione had insisted that they bring their homework with them, but there was only one quill that had touched ink today. He grinned as Ginny hurled a piece of toast over the lake, and a long tentacle reached out to catch it and bring it back down below the rippling surface of the lake.

They were alone on the grounds. The snow had retreated slightly, but it was still devilishly cold, so Ginny was working to keep the area around them mild.

"...so ugly even the snow's running away from her!"

Harry frowned, looking around. Ron was playing chess against Neville, who seemed more interested in what Hermione was doing than the loss of his dark square bishop. Ginny was reading an encyclopaedia she'd bought in Exeter. She'd finished the one he'd bought for Dad in about an hour, and would probably know more about muggles than he did by the end of the day. His girlfriend was one fast reader.

"My, my, they're playing chess! Five sickles says the pieces are telling them what to do."

Harry massaged his temples, wondering why no-one else could hear them. Ginny sensed his discomfort, and looked up questioningly.

"Well, you were right, Draco. Money is the ultimate power. I can't see what else could keep that lot together."

"Influence, I would guess. The weak simply flock to him," Malfoy spat. "He's a symbol, you see."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, focused on something behind him.

"Did you see Rita Skeeter's article in the Prophet this morning, Draco?" Harry identified the other speaker as Pansy. Malfoy began sniggering, and he could hear Crabbe and Goyle guffawing in the background. "She asked the most pertinent of questions." She was unable to finish, as she had been overcome with giggles.

"Anyone read the Prophet this morning?" Harry asked nonchalantly. Ginny and Ron gave him confused looks, while Neville and Hermione's expressions became guilty.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Ginny asked, bemused. At his nod, her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe.

"What who's..." Neville began, his voice cracking and turning painfully high. "Oh."

The group of Slytherins were still laughing hysterically; Malfoy was trying to repeat whatever Rita Skeeter's question had been.

"'I wonder, then, who will be supporting who?'" Hermione recited. "That was her last line, so I'm guessing that's what they're laughing about — considering how often they come to bother us, their memory spans can't be anything to boast about." Neville snorted. Harry and Ginny's annoyance faded, for the most part. But Ron still looked like he wanted to give the Slytherins a good kicking.

"You know, it really is extraordinary how much muggles know about wizards without having discovered magic," Ginny commented.

"You've hit Ares, I take it?" Hermione interjected.

"Yeah," replied Ginny.

"Do you actually know everything?" Ron asked. Upon realising he couldn't tell whether Ron was serious or not, Harry burst out laughing. "What?!"

Hermione smirked through her blush. "Here, Ginny. Can anything in these myths not be explained if you take the titans and gods to be wizards?"

"That's what I thought," Ginny agreed. "But why have I not read about any of these people in Wizarding books?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe nobody ever found these 'gods'' private records. But there's no way we'll find out here and now. We don't know enough magic to carry out a successful expedition to Greece."

"I wasn't thinking that far down the line," Ginny giggled, "but maybe we'll do that someday, Hermione."

"Oh, we have to!" Hermione enthused. "It's our duty."

Harry and Ginny grinned helplessly at each other.

"They're mine," Ron said in a low growl. Everyone blinked — Ron had been the only one paying any attention to the four Slytherins.

They were pitched twenty metres or so away, laughing themselves silly.

"Ron, if you hurt one of them, you'll get detention," Neville said.

"You might even get suspended," Hermione added.

"Then they'll just keep on laughing at you and what can you do about it?" Ginny asked.

"I need to do something!" Ron said angrily.

"Then you've already lost," said Ginny. "Fool's mate."

Ron glared at her, but the chess reference seemed to get through to him. "Yeah," he muttered.

"I crossed a line the other day," Harry said, scratching at his cheek. "I don't know what I actually did, but I lost control. And I was really lucky to get away with it. I don't think any of us will be that lucky next time."

"Harry's right," Ginny admitted. When eyebrows lifted, she adopted a sardonic expression. "Just because I dish it out doesn't mean I enjoy it." The eyebrows stayed up. "Okay, fine," she huffed. "Blame me for trying to make a point, why don't you? I'm serious, though. Striking first is a line we don't want to be crossing too often."

"Says the girl who came this close to shaking our train carriage to bits," Neville smirked.

"Ugh," said Ginny. "What is this? All on Ginny day?"

"It'd certainly be _one_ on Ginny day if we let you," Hermione muttered.

Harry blinked, his complexion reacting faster than his mind. He turned to stare at Hermione, needing some kind of confirmation that she had said what he'd just heard. The blush she was attempting to hide behind her Potions text provided it.

"Hey!" said Ginny. "You're supposed to be the 'good influence'!"

Hermione's face shone still brighter as she mumbled something else under her breath.

"I'm sorry," Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing, "what was that?"

But Harry had heard.

"Which influence is Harry, then?" Hermione repeated a little louder, before bolting with Ginny hot on her heels.

* * *

Harry tried several different positions, incapable of getting comfortable in the chair while still being able to use his quill. Eventually, he gave up, and just lay on his stomach on the floor by the fire.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Don't worry, we haven't started anything. It hasn't been too bad. For me, I don't think anything much has changed.

Ginny sniggered a little to the side. Harry grinned up at the place where she'd materialised.

"Tuesday doesn't count," he explained. "All the crap Malfoy comes up with must at least balance us out."

"Us?" Ginny asked innocently. "What have _I_ done?"

Harry looked her in the eyes, but she kept her expression resolutely neutral. "I give up," he said. While fumbling around in his pockets trying to find Mum's letter, he finished, "For now..." in an undertone.

Classes are getting generally easier all the time, but we do have an unfair advantage through Hermione. Ginny

"Hey!" said Harry. Ginny had telekinetically ripped the quill right out of his hand, making it fly over to her where she lay on her side, watching him.

"Parchment, please," she asked casually.

Grumbling, he passed it over, and she finished the letter herself.

"Done," she said.

"Why couldn't I finish it?" Harry griped.

Ginny shrugged. "I wasn't going to let you write about how amazing my last bit of magic was." At his look of protest, she went on, "You _were_ going to. It doesn't feel right, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't _have_ any special talent. Anyone can do what I do," she replied flatly.

"Hey, don't be like that," Harry replied. "If it was easy, you wouldn't be the first."

"And isn't that the depressing thing?" she interrupted. "That..."

"No, Ginny," Harry stopped her. "You and I both know it's not that simple. You aren't the first to do Accidental Magic. You're the first to Accidentally Apparate, and you understand why."

"Actually, I'm not."

Harry stared at her. "What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" she smirked. "You've done it."

"Okay, now you're just taking the..." Harry's memory jolted, and he ground to a halt.

 _They were catching him. He didn't know how, he was usually much faster than them. If they were catching him, they wouldn't get bored. If they didn't get bored, they wouldn't leave him alone. If they didn't leave him alone, he'd be healing up in his cupboard for a few days._

 _They rounded the corner of the school building, and the giant bins outside the kitchens loomed ahead of him. If he could just vault them, he could delay them enough to find a good place to hide inside._

 _Disregarding the heaviness in his legs, Harry charged past the bins with renewed vigour. As he began to pull away though, he allowed himself to weaken so that his pursuers would close the gap._

 _Harry could feel their feet pounding the gravel. Their laboured breathing was in his ears, echoing in his head and pouring ice water down his spine._

 _He cut back. Gordon's arm flung out to tear at his shirt. Spinning, Harry watched it sail past his nose, and sprinted to the bins. Piers snarled something at him, but he kept going, leaping upwards... His stitch seemed to seize up unnaturally, and his whole body was squeezed in spasm._

 _He was on top of the building. Dudley and his gang were down by the bins, staring incredulously up at him. He couldn't remember flying across onto the roof, but there he was, holding desperately onto a chimney while they went to tattle on him. Never in his life had he felt so exhausted..._

"No way," Harry breathed.

Ginny beamed at him. "See? Not special."

"You do it at will," Harry pointed out.

"So could you, if you worked at it," said Ginny.

"You didn't have to," Harry grinned. "Imagine what _you_ can do."

"But it just doesn't make sense," Ginny groaned.

"You mean it doesn't make sense that you were the one to get this power? That's a load of crap. Wasn't it you that said Weasley girls always have some special ability?"

"But it wasn't me that made me this way," Ginny despaired.

Harry noted how the conversation had changed, and put his arms gently around her. The way she relaxed into his embrace was reassuring, and he smiled despite himself. "So? No one makes that choice, not really. You didn't wake up on your fifth birthday to a form asking you 'please tick here for amazing powers of control over magic'."

"No, I woke up to Fred and George and an innocent looking package," she answered, the remaining tension in her body leaving her.

"Do I want to know?"

"No. No you don't."

Harry grinned, letting out a breath through his nose as he felt Ginny laughing in his arms.

"This is how you feel, isn't it?" she asked. "About your scar."

Harry looked into her warm brown eyes. "Yeah, it is. Difference is, that happened, and it's done. You've been given something you can _use_."

She stared into the fire. The Gryffindor red carpet was made bright yellow by the force of the flames as the fire began to roar. Harry stroked her back gently, assuming she was venting her feelings. But the fire didn't stop growing. The flames were licking the mantelpiece, and Harry could feel the heat from where they stood halfway across the room. He was starting to sweat. The flames disappeared. The logs weren't even smouldering — it was as if the fire had died hours ago. Ginny on the other hand, was suddenly hyper. She grinned at him.

"Something I can use," she said. "Yeah, I like it."

Harry could only stare as the carpet ruptured to admit a sapling.

"I can make things grow."

The sapling was soon a small tree, maybe as tall as Ron. As Ginny stared at it, her expression changed; her happiness faded away to leave something dark and unreadable.

"Or wilt and die."

Suddenly, the entire tree combusted in a bright flash of light. Yet the fire did not spread, and Harry felt no heat. The remains of the tree disappeared. The carpet repaired itself. No one would ever know what had just happened.

Harry stared at the completely normal, unassuming patch of red carpet.

"Now I know why the muggles hunted us," said Ginny. She collapsed into his arms with a sigh, fast asleep or passed out, Harry didn't know. He laid her down gently on the sofa, his mind racing.

He reached out to one of the logs in the large basket by the fireplace. Even though he was a good five metres away, he imagined he could feel the ridges and bumps on its surface. Gritting his teeth, he tried the first proper charm he'd been taught. Wingardium Leviosa. It twitched, and he stared at it. The log rolled slightly, and one end drifted upwards by maybe a centimetre. Straining with muscles he didn't have, Harry wrenched upwards. The log fell back onto the pile.

Harry was breathing heavily, completely exhausted by his efforts. But maybe Ginny was right. Maybe they all had her ability to shape the world to their desire. She was just way better at it. He put his school robe over her, and went to sit in a nearby armchair. _'Now I know why the muggles hunted us.'_ Her words ushered him to sleep - to fitful dreams where they didn't, or couldn't, stop running.


	11. 11 - Valentine's Day

Ginny woke with a start. An owl was sitting on her tummy, a note attached to her leg. Shaking some of the grogginess from her head, she took the note, petting the owl before she flew off.

Ginny pulled the curtain of her four-poster open slightly. It was still dark, and not even Hermione was up yet. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she wondered who'd be sending a note so early in the morning. Using the techniques Professor Flitwick had taught her, she focused on her desire for light. She focused on every sensation she could from her right hand, then imagined a cold light there. In her mind's eye, Ginny could see flames licking at her fingers. Closing her eyes, she could even _feel_ them there like a cool breath of wind buffeting her skin.

Ginny smiled when she felt the familiar tingle of magical energy distorting at her fingertips. All this took place in barely half a second, and in what had been a dark bed, there was now a dim bluish light. She quickly dropped the curtain so that she would not disturb her dorm-mates.

Like opening a tap, she brightened the light slowly as her eyes became used to it, until it was at a sufficient level that she could read the note.

 _Ginny,_ _Dress for the freezing weather, and then come to your window._

Guessing that she could fight from the window if it was someone who meant her harm, she yawned, extinguished the light and slid out of bed. She looked over at Hermione's bed, and held back a giggle as she saw a lumpy shape in the side of the curtain. That girl was going to die with a book in her hand. She opened her trunk, finding to her glee that the results of her experiment last week had persisted for longer than she had even hoped for.

Last Wednesday, she had completely emptied her trunk, and willed it to get bigger, making absolutely sure that she constrained the outer proportions in her mind's eye. To her utmost satisfaction, the inside of the trunk grew until she probably could have sat inside with a lamp and a book. Professor Flitwick had been so pleased by her Undetectable Extension Charm (which she learned was actually NEWT-level), he'd given her twenty points. Twenty! Then again, she wasn't supposed to have learned more than a couple of basic charms at her age, if any at all.

She dressed slowly, but was still surprised when she eventually heard a voice in the dark.

"Ginny, is that you?" Lavender asked. It was more yawn than voice, really.

"Yeah. Why are you up so early?" Ginny replied, genuinely puzzled. Of all of them, Lavender was always the last to get up, being even less of a morning person than Ginny herself.

"Oh, come on. You're the one with the boyfriend — you have to remember what day it is."

Ginny's head snapped round to look at the note lying on her bed. _Dress for the freezing weather, and then come to your window._ It had been so vague, she hadn't given any real thought to it. And yet it was in his handwriting... _'What's Harry planning?'_

"Well? Did he remember?"

"I think so," she said slowly. "Lavender, can you help me?"

Even in the dark, she could see the girl's grin forming.

* * *

Harry wasn't cold. He'd put on plenty of layers to combat Scotland's best attempts to make him into an icicle. That didn't stop him shivering, though.

Lying flat to his broom to keep the wind at bay, he leaned heavily against the tower wall. Fear of screwing up gripped him like a frozen iron fist around the heart.

He'd already flown over to the mountain overlooking the lake, and cleared an area on its peak. Then he'd badgered the twins until they told him how to get into the kitchens so that he could get a picnic basket sorted out. Of course, the fact that the kitchens were overflowing with house-elves distracted him for quite a while.

Harry was frankly quite disturbed by their attitude towards life. House-elves were very strange creatures. It wasn't so much their appearance, which was a bit like a cross between a five-year-old child and a sphynx cat, with gigantic eyes and long noses. Nor was it the way they dressed in tea towels. Rather, Harry was freaked out by the way it seemed that they considered it the greatest of pleasures to serve him. Having been on the other side of such servitude, he couldn't conceive of how they could be happy with their lot in life, but they almost fell over each other when he thanked them for the picnic basket. The picnic basket... Harry had asked for some cupcakes and a few sandwiches — ham and cheese, maybe a chicken and bacon. Now he had a chocolate cake that made his stomach grumble when he smelled it, a stack of various sandwiches he hadn't even checked yet, and a bag of chocolate brownies.

They took pride in their work. He hadn't seen a single elf who wasn't either revering him and begging to be of service, or cleaning or fixing something or teleporting in and out.

Harry had asked Mr. Weasley about it over Christmas, and whether it was possible that their behaviour was a result of some kind of curse, but he hadn't known. What Mr. Weasley did say was that elves had served wizards for hundreds of years, at least since the founding of Hogwarts. In any case, there was no way to find out. He'd felt rather guilty asking for their help, but they'd been so happy to aid him...

A sigh escaped into the chill air. He couldn't let this day be marred. This Valentine's was special not just because it was his first with Ginny, but because it would also be their first real date. As an eleven-year-old at a boarding school, there wasn't much he could offer her in that respect. But today would be different. Besides, he had the whole morning off today, and he could drop Ginny off outside Dumbledore's office for her lesson later on.

Just then, the window slowly opened. He could see a translucent silvery shield expanding in the growing gap. Smiling nervously, he glided forwards, shifting only a knee to combat the winds. When he saw Ginny, he almost fell off his broom. She was beaming at him, a slight blush on her cheeks hidden by the glow that surrounded her. He absently drifted past the window as he stared at her hair. It was being blown about gently, despite the fact that her shield was clearly keeping the stormy night out. He didn't see Lavender standing behind his girlfriend in the darkness, smirking with pride at what she'd achieved. Not that it had been too hard with Ginny's talents at hand. The actual makeup was quite subtle, at least compared to what Lavender and Parvati occasionally did to themselves. Harry noticed a little eye shadow and lip gloss, and began to feel mildly underdressed.

"Well then, Harry, are we just going to wait around here, or do you have something planned?" Ginny asked.

"Um, hi Lavender," Harry said awkwardly. "I do have something planned, actually, Ginny. Could you let me in, please?"

"Bit too cold for you, Harry?" Ginny teased.

"Yeah, something like that," he replied. He drifted slowly forwards towards the window ledge, and secured a foot on it. "The plan's to get you on the broom. Care to join me?"

Ginny made a face. "Harry, what exactly are we going to be doing out there?"

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and anxiety. It was six o'clock already, and the sun would rise on the mountaintop within half an hour. "I wanted to do something special for our first Valentine's Day. I mean, I haven't really taken you out on any kind of real date yet, and you know..."

"Yeah, I do," Ginny grinned. "Just be glad that I can block the cold out."

"I hope you aren't planning on taking advantage of being here," Lavender said in a mock-serious voice.

He smiled and let himself glide into the girl's dorm. "I'd get hexed halfway to next Sunday if I did," he replied.

"Harry?!" It was Hermione. "Don't touch down in here!"

Evidently her sense of loyalty was taking over her indignation that he was in the girls' dorm room.

He wondered about why the other girls hadn't been roused by all the noise. Staying two feet off the ground to make sure the picnic basket didn't touch the ground, he drifted slowly backwards towards the window. "Um, why?" he asked, his cheeks starting to glow in embarrassment.

"Boys aren't allowed in here. If you try to come up the stairs, they turn into a slide. A siren goes off if a boy is anywhere from the stairs to the dorms. But they only go off if you're in contact with the ground. That's how the wards identify you," she explained.

"Is this ' _Hogwarts, A History_ ' coming to the rescue?" he replied teasingly.

"Yes," she replied hotly.

"Alright, alright!" Harry laughed. "I'm not Ron!"

Hermione allowed him a smile. "Well, you can use this as another reason why you should read it."

"Why?" Ginny teased. "We can just ask you."

"Have mercy, I'm not awake yet," Hermione replied with a weak grin. "Seriously, though, what are you doing here, Harry?"

"I'm trying to take Ginny on a Valentine's Day date," Harry sighed, glancing at his watch nervously.

"Ooh," Parvati crooned from her bed.

"So you didn't get Hermione to help with this one," Ginny smirked.

"What d'you mean, Ginny," Fay yawned. Harry turned pleading, puppy-dog eyes on his girlfriend, who reluctantly acquiesced.

"Alright, leave him alone," Ginny grinned. She climbed nimbly on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Come on, Harry." He swung the tail of the broom around, and with a whoosh and a squeal of pleasure they rocketed out into the dying night.

* * *

"Oomph!" Neville puffed as he hit the ground. He glared up at Harry's bed. _'It was funny last week, but...'_

Harry was his best friend. Neville had come to Hogwarts without knowing anyone his own age. He'd never had much opportunity. If his grandmother had been planning an arranged marriage to keep the bloodline going, she sure hadn't given him a clue.

Neville might still have had some company growing up if the Death Eaters hadn't killed his elder sister as they forced entry into his home. According to his grandmother, his parents had removed the Fidelius Charm after Halloween, thinking there wasn't any point anymore. His eyes misted over as he remembered all he'd ever known of his parents — incoherent and barely sentient in their permanent ward at St. Mungo's.

He repressed the thoughts. Harry had been brilliant, recognising that Neville wasn't exactly comfortable socially. According to him, though Neville struggled to believe it, Harry wasn't particularly comfortable socially either. But Harry just subtly included Neville in everything he did, and Neville was impossibly grateful. That didn't mean he couldn't get pissed when the guy acted a git, though.

Laboriously, he clambered to his feet. His watch had landed beside him, and read seven thirty.

 _'For crying out loud, we didn't even have any lessons this morning!'_

He ripped back Harry's curtains and frowned. The fiend wasn't there.

"Ron?" he called.

He was replied to by the expected snores.

"What's the noise abou'?" Seamus asked, sticking his face out of his own four-poster.

"Never mind," Neville said. "Go back to sleep."

The Irish boy snorted, but nevertheless returned to the darkness of his bed.

Neville crossed to Ron's bed, and shook the curtains. "Oi, Ron."

"Huh?" came the groggy reply.

"Ron, this isn't long before you usually get up. Why are you so tired?" Neville enquired.

Ron groaned. "Hermione kept me up doing the bloody History of Magic essay. We've got till Wednesday!"

"She's trying to train you," Neville smirked.

"Bloody hell," was all Ron could come up with.

"Did Harry have extra Quidditch practice this morning?" he asked.

"Don't think so," Ron replied, waking significantly faster at the mention of his favourite sport. "He'd have told us. No, he's got one in the afternoon, because only Harry has a free morning."

Neville's smirk broadened. "Did you memorise all the Quidditch team's schedules?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really. I just listen to Wood. He's Quidditch Captain, you know? He'll know everything."

"So where's Harry, then?" Neville asked, trying to bring them back on-topic.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not in his bed, and his broom isn't there either," he replied.

"Maybe he just went flying. He likes doing that," Ron replied.

"I just have a weird feeling," Neville frowned. "Come on, let's go to breakfast."

"Why?" Ron moaned.

Neville smirked again. "Ron Weasley's turning down food? Careful you don't get crushed under the stampede of reporters — you'll make the front page!"

"Oh, shut up, Neville," Ron moaned before flopping back onto his pillow, seemingly falling asleep halfway down.

Neville rolled his eyes, and changed into school robes. Just because they didn't have any lessons today didn't mean they got off having to wear uniform. They were allowed normal clothes on weekends; not that it made much difference for Neville. He didn't have that many casual clothes, for he had never had a need.

He wandered down to the common room, feeling unused to being alone for the first time in his life, only to be swallowed in a gaggle of girls.

"Hey, Neville," Hermione grinned.

"What's going on?" he asked.

It was weird enough that Hermione was hanging around with any of the girls in her dorm other than Ginny. That was when he realised that Ginny wasn't there. And Harry had left unannounced with his broom. And there were loads of excited girls in the common room. And it was Valentine's Day! The light bulb went on his head, and apparently Hermione had noticed, because she smiled. His cheeks pinked.

"I guess you've figured it out, then," Hermione teased. "Everyone's trying to figure out where they went. Lavender thinks they went to see the sun rise, because he kept worrying about the time."

"So when did they leave?" Neville asked.

"About five minutes ago," Lavender giggled. "Harry came in on his broom and flew off with her, it was _so_ romantic."

"So, what are the odds that they're down by the lake?" Rionach asked.

"Not good," Parvati answered. "Harry has more imagination than that. Come on, I barely know him and I can tell you that much!"

"There's always Hogsmeade," Lavender suggested.

"I can see that appealing to Ginny's sense of adventure," Hermione conceded.

"There you go – I have the best friend backing me up," Lavender grinned.

Neville shook his head and walked on towards the Great Hall. Harry must have planned this well. He remembered the hysteria around Ginny's Christmas present. Harry had definitely had help from someone on this.

The answer to the resulting question was obvious; who else _would_ he have gone to? Plus, Angelina was there to give him tips. It was ideal. Harry got his help from his twin brothers.

* * *

Harry leaned back into Ginny as they neared the ground, gently shedding speed as he located the specially-cleared area on the barely light mountain top. He'd spent several hours clearing the rocks and most of the snow. As they drifted lazily to the ground, Harry lowered the picnic basket carefully to the side as he dropped the broom to knee-height.

"Oh, so you _can_ fly without trying to kill yourself," Ginny teased.

"Just trying to protect you," Harry teased back.

Ginny shot him a playful glare, and lay down on the ground.

"We're really high up," she murmured.

"Yeah. The sun is going to be rising early, just for us," he replied.

He was sitting back on his heels, unable to relax. Angelina had told him that this was a great idea, but she wasn't Ginny.

She frowned up at him. "I'm kinda nervous too, Harry. It's a first time for me as well, you know." She patted the ground next to her.

He lay down, but didn't turn to face her. He heard his broom come to rest in the thick snow behind them, its gentle hum of power fading. He felt Ginny take his hand as she sat up slightly.

 ** _'Harry, I love this, believe me. It's a bit sappy, but it's beautiful. Look, it's starting.'_**

True enough, the first washes of colour were just starting to stain the night sky. Harry watched the amazement on Ginny's face with wonderment of his own. The orange light was setting her hair as it blew around in the magically muffled winds. He could count the freckles over her nose onto her cheeks...

 ** _'It's got nothing on you,'_** he replied earnestly.

The sun rose slowly over the children still lost in each other. They paid it no heed, nor did anything around them. The magical field distorted around them, excited by the girl's high emotion. Its chaotic energies melted away the snow and nourished the flora like no amount of sunshine ever could.

* * *

"Bit odd, isn't it?" Ron managed around a mouthful of bacon.

Neville rolled his eyes. Hermione just stared in disbelief.

"What?" he asked indignantly. "Harry never misses breakfast. Do you think something's bothering him?"

Hermione and Neville glanced at each other. Say nothing, was the unspoken agreement.

"I don't know, Ron," Neville replied.

"Yes, that does seem to be the common factor between the two of you, doesn't it?" said a slow, drawling voice. Malfoy had apparently noticed Harry and Ginny's absence, and was taking advantage of the reduced likelihood of getting his arse whooped. "Is she planning on doing it today, then, Weasley? I wonder if students are allowed maternity leave..."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked. He was on the other side of the table from Malfoy, and looked to be wondering whether it was worth slinging his toast at the guy.

"You bastard," Neville said venomously before punching the Slytherin square in the face. Hermione gasped. Ron gaped, giving Neville an astonished, awed look. Crabbe and Goyle seemed ready to smash Neville's face in, when...

"Mr. Longbottom!" Professor McGonagall cried. How she'd come over so quickly, no one knew. "You two, take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing!" She pointed at Crabbe and Goyle, who reluctantly followed her instructions. "Mr. Longbottom, you will serve detention today and tomorrow, and twenty-five points will be taken from Gryffindor."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Neville shook his head.

"You will serve your detentions with Filch in the trophy room at six in the evenings," Professor McGonagall told him. She returned to the Staff Table.

"What are you doing? If she'd known what he'd said-"

"There'd have been even more fuss. Harry and Ginny want this to all just blow over."

"What did he mean?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Hermione raised her eyes to the heavens, but still whispered in his ear. His eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with rage. He tried to get up, clearly to give the Slytherin more hell. Hermione pulled him back down, and whispered in his ear again. His eyes lit up with an evil pleasure Neville hadn't before seen. Ron got up and walked over to Fred and George on the other end of the table.

"Malfoy deserves everything those two are going to give him," Neville said darkly.

"My thoughts exactly," she replied. She gave him a shifty little smile. "Nice punch, by the way."

Just then, Ron came running back.

"Hang on, are you saying that Harry and Ginny are out somewhere alone?!"

Neville face-palmed. Hermione seemed torn between crying in frustration and laughing at the absurdity.

* * *

"I'm the tallest person in the whole world!" Ginny giggled as she soared higher and higher on the Nimbus.

Harry laughed as she vertically barrel-rolled and looped them higher and higher. He looked down, and thanked whatever gods there were that he didn't have vertigo. The three-thousand foot mountain they'd left behind was looking rather distant. Ginny urged the broom faster and faster. Harry had no qualms about letting her fly his broom. She would never actually ask to use it, but Harry knew how desperately she wanted to play for Gryffindor. Her face lit up every time he handed it over, and she would pull tricks he didn't know existed.

The broom began to hum with power as it eased past a hundred miles an hour. The trail of golden light and sparks the broom created via its disturbance of the magical field stretched far behind them, like a wound in the fabric of space.

 ** _'We must look like a firework...'_** Harry thought in wonderment.

He had to hold onto Ginny pretty tightly to avoid slipping off the broom. She, of course, needed the footrests to control the broom, so he was being held thousands of feet in the air by his girlfriend's waist and some magical wood between his legs.

 ** _'Yeah, someone should take a picture!'_** Ginny enthused.

He didn't need to be able to see her face to know she was grinning.

They suddenly breached the first layer of cloud cover. Harry shivered at the cold that penetrated Ginny's shield. She leaned closer to the broom handle, accelerating beyond their already blistering pace. The humming from the broom rose in pitch, and the magical distortion trail stretched out hundreds of metres below them. Harry thought they must have reached the Nimbus's top speed of 112 mph when they broke out from the clouds with a burst of vapour.

Ginny pulled back heavily, looping back and over until they breached their own trail. It tingled a lot, like prolonged static shock. Then they looked up. The sun shone naked before them, lighting up the fluffy cloud beneath and around them with a golden glow.

They sat in silence for minutes on end, awed by the spectacle. Harry leaned forwards to rest his chin on her shoulder.

 ** _'Okay, this might have a chance against you,'_** Harry said softly.

* * *

Fred and George watched with raised eyebrows as Ron blew up, his frustrations and anger boiling over. He stormed over to them. "Where are they?" Ron growled.

"Ask us no questions," Fred said jovially.

"And we'll tell you no lies, brother," George finished.

Ron's robes started to smoke in the thigh area as his wand reacted to his towering emotions.

"O-okay, let's get you cooled off there, Ronniekins," George said as they dragged him off.

Hermione rolled her eyes as they left. "At least they had the common sense to get him out of here," she muttered.

"They're the Weasley twins. Pranking is their lives. They know when it's time to leave," Neville replied.

"Maybe it's time for us to go, too," Hermione said abruptly.

"Yeah, let's go find out where those two really went," Neville said, rising from his seat.

Hermione stopped him before he went over to Angelina and Alicia for his answers. "Neville, you... you've sort of... changed since last term," she said softly. "Is something–?"

"No, Hermione. I just ... found my place, you know?" he murmured back. He grinned, and when she smiled back, they left to find to find the girl who had almost certainly helped orchestrate Harry and Ginny's day.

* * *

So far in his life, Harry only enjoyed one thing more than being airborne. He closed his eyes, wanting the only sensation in his mind to be Ginny in his arms. Not that he achieved this, of course. The intoxicating smell of her hair, the gentle sound of her breathing...

 ** _'How long do we still have?'_** Ginny asked in a sort of satisfied half-sigh.

Harry grinned, and lifted his arm slightly so she could see the mechanical watch he'd gotten from Hagrid for Christmas. The sun was high in the sky now, and they had a beautiful view of the school grounds, Hogsmeade and the vast surrounding countryside from the top of this mountain.

Hogwarts looked almost like a dollhouse it was so small, the Black Lake glittering below. From this distance, even the Forbidden Forest held no malevolence, only a strange kind of tranquillity. Harry took another delicious brownie and let Ginny take a bite out of it before munching on it himself.

 ** _'I was sorely tempted to say five minutes,'_** she began.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned wider. **_'That hurts, Ginny,'_** he said.

 ** _'But I didn't want to ruin the moment,'_** she went on. **_'We've still got nearly an hour.'_**

 ** _'I guess you want your gift now,'_** he teased.

 ** _'You act like you don't want yours,'_** she replied easily.

He let out a breath. **_'You win.'_**

 ** _'Nothing new there, then,'_** she continued.

He lowered his hands to her sides. She turned her head to look up at him, and raised an eyebrow. Still unable to accomplish this feat of physical prowess, he raised both of his slightly, returning her daring look. She bit the corner of her lip, and uncharacteristically, gave in. She must have felt his shock over their link.

 ** _'Well someone has to be mature here.'_**

He smirked with victory.

 ** _'Oh, shut up.'_**

He'd begun winning their tickle fights. It wasn't for a lack of trying on Ginny's part, but rather that Harry was getting a lot stronger, and apparently she was realising that tickling him into submission was no longer a viable option. She could cheat, of course, but she didn't seem to enjoy it as much when she did.

Harry reached into one of the inside pockets of his robes, which lay with hers beside them, and pulled out a box of chocolates that clearly shouldn't have fitted in there.

 ** _'No, it wasn't Hermione,'_** he said to answer the unvoiced question. **_'Although I think she had an idea what I was up to. She probably knows the layout of the whole library already.'_**

"I guess the twins told you about that," she said, blushing.

"Um... yeah," he admitted.

They'd warned him that it wouldn't seem particularly original, but that Ginny had always been fond of chocolate.

"I was kind of worried you'd do something like Christmas again," she murmured, shifting so she could face him. Her eyes were downcast.

 ** _'Why?'_** he asked. The chain of the little pendant was glinting brightly in the sunlight.

 ** _'It was so romantic and beautiful, and probably expensive,'_** she replied glumly.

"Well, I don't know about the romantic bit," Harry said awkwardly. "But I really couldn't care less about how much it cost. I know it means a lot to you, because... Well, I've got more money than I could count, as _Parkinson_ ," he spat the name like a curse, "was so eager to point out. But Ginny, could you ever look me in the eye and say that if I wasn't rich, and famous, that you'd never have looked twice at me?"

Ginny couldn't speak. She didn't need to.

"That's exactly why I would give you and _our_ family everything in my vault if you'd let me, without a second glance. The way you make me feel — I feel like I belong with you. I feel... I feel _loved_."

"Oh, Harry, I-" she gave up on words, and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

It was a patented Prewett Lung Crusher, but Harry didn't feel uncomfortable at all. He returned the hug fervently. They sat that way for a while, embracing tightly enough to merge. As the tension and emotion slowly drained, so did the energy they'd put into the... well, less of a hug than a suffocation contest.

"You know," she murmured into his ear, "you don't talk much like an eleven-year-old."

"You don't sound like a ten-year-old," he replied. "More like a ... five-year-old."

"You!" she cried, pinning him to the ground and laughing as he begged for mercy.

"Ginny," he half-gasped as he recovered. He knew this was a terribly unwise thing to say, but since he had her in such a good mood... "What about my present?"

* * *

Ginny was beaming as Harry floated out of the window behind her. She leaned back against the gargoyle as it corkscrewed her up towards the Headmaster's Office. Today had truly been a highlight of her life so far. She would have been perfectly happy to go to sleep now, and keep the 14th February 1992 as a glowing haven of perfection.

 _'Must have been the height — I'm getting a bit giddy.'_

She walked forward, and received the expected disembodied welcome from beyond the door. Ginny entered the office, and sat before _the_ Albus Dumbledore for about the thirtieth time. It was yet to get old.

"Good morning, Professor," she said courteously.

"Indeed," he replied amusedly. He was giving her one of his usual piercing looks, and she blushed at the realisation that he probably knew where she'd been that morning. Mercifully, he did not say anything on the subject, but the twinkling in his eyes was rather irritating.

"Was there something in particular you wanted to ask me about today, Miss Weasley?" he asked a few seconds later. She blinked, and stared rather rudely for a second before she snapped herself out of it. _'This is Dumbledore.'_

"Um, yes sir," she replied slowly. It had been bothering her for a while, but she'd hoped it would simply fix itself given time. "It's really confusing. I've found it really easy to cast charms and most transfigurations, but whenever I try to counter a spell that has already been cast, it hurts."

"Are you saying that you feel pain when casting counter-charms?" the Professor asked curiously.

"Well, it isn't much, Professor, but I'm not sure it's so simple," she replied, frowning.

She really would've been quite happy to spend the whole morning with Harry, but she'd been putting this off for far too long. Besides, since she had no lessons at all that day, she'd have time to experiment with whatever Dumbledore might tell her before Harry's Quidditch practice.

"You see, when I'm casting a charm, I just have to be able to focus on everything I want to happen. But when I have to counter an existing enchantment, I have to do that and, sort of, fight the old spell."

The headmaster stared for a moment, and then leaned forward to look closely at her from over steepled fingers. "Miss Weasley, I think that it would be wise to, for now at least, allow things to simply run their course," he said slowly.

"Do you mean it'll get easier, sir?" she asked.

"As of yet, there is no way of telling," he answered.

"But sir, do you know why this is happening?" Ginny pressed.

He smiled. "Know, Miss Weasley? I will not be dishonest. I may have many theories, but genuine understanding, I'm afraid, eludes me."

"Theories, Professor?" Ginny repeated.

"Ever curious, Miss Weasley," the headmaster chuckled. "Yes, I do have many theories as to what might be happening. Many of these are quite ridiculous, but all are equally likely," he said, smiling genially. "I suggest that you put it from your mind for now."

Ginny frowned; she hated being kept in the dark about anything. However, she wasn't so immature as to not realise that the headmaster, being Dumbledore, must have a good reason for not yet divulging his speculations. "Yes, sir," she said. She let it go, knowing that it wasn't important.

* * *

 ** _'So where did you say we were meeting them?'_** Harry asked.

They were somewhere on the fourth floor, wandering aimlessly about the castle under his dad's old invisibility cloak.

 ** _'They said to wait for them in an unused classroom off this hallway. I think it was the fourth on the right,'_** she said.

So not completely aimless.

 ** _'You know, I find it a bit strange that after all the hell you've given him, Malfoy still keeps bugging us,'_** Harry mused.

 ** _'You've done your fair share of humiliation,'_** Ginny pointed out.

His cheeks pinked slightly. ** _'I don't mean to, but every time the guy opens his mouth...'_**

 ** _'Yeah, I know. You're the most kind-hearted boy in the world,'_** she replied teasingly, though not harshly.

She pulled open the door gently and tugged him through. The retort died on Harry's lips.

 ** _'The twins aren't usually late...'_** he said.

 ** _'No, not unless they want to make some dramatic entrance,'_** she said suspiciously, turning to look back through the door.

Harry let go of her hand and slipped out from under the cloak so that he could explore the room. They were in a small, open lobby area with dusty, cobwebbed arches extending past the wall on their right into the dark room beyond. He could just make out desks and chairs that had been hastily shoved to the far wall.

Walking slowly down the pseudo-corridor, letting his fingers trace the masonry of the pillars, he came to an arch much wider than the others that extended all the way to the floor, allowing his passage. As he turned to face the room, and looked up from his examination of the stonework, he gasped.

"What is it?" Ginny asked quietly.

He felt a little disoriented not being able to see her, but being able to sense exactly where she was was deeply comforting.

"Um, I'm not really sure. I mean, it's a mirror, but you know... this is Hogwarts," he rambled.

He felt her approach even after his first sentence ended, and as she whipped the cloak off, she appeared exactly where his sixth sense was telling him she was. Or perhaps it was his seventh sense.

It was her turn to gasp. "You were right!" she exclaimed.

His eyebrows knitted together. Her strongest emotions were wonder and awe. If he had been right, and it was just a mirror, then what was so amazing?

 _'After all, she sees herself in the mirror every day...'_

She seemed to sense his confusion.

 _'No, wait, she is sensing it.'_

"Look at the writing over the top," she whispered.

He squinted to read the slightly faded script on the enormous, elegant frame.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

"Um, is it Afrikaans or something?" he muttered.

She looked at him a little strangely.

"I don't know," he said defensively. "Some foreign language I heard of."

She smirked, and he suddenly realised what the writing was.

"Oh, come _on_!" he groaned. _'I show not your face but your heart's desire: backwards. It was backwards.'_

"Go on then, Harry – you first," she laughed.

He rolled his eyes and walked forwards. His eyes grew wide.

He felt Ginny take his hand gingerly. "Do you want to tell me?" she asked.

He merely gaped in reply. He felt her move closer to the mirror, but saw nothing apart from the image before him. Instincts he didn't know he had did battle within his head.

"But that's..." Ginny mumbled. He nodded dumbly. She turned and embraced him tightly. He didn't notice himself respond, so enthralled was he by the image before him.


	12. 12 - The Power of Fantasy

"And it's Pucey with the quaffle. He loops the incoming Turpin and yes, Pucey, that is a Bludger. Shishkov picks it up and executes a perfect Winterdale Shake, bamboozling Miles Bletchley and _yes_ , good shot by Shishkov there — straight into the right hoop!"

For once, Quidditch was unable to hold Harry's attention. He gazed at Ginny intently, just as he'd been doing for the past week. He wanted, no, _needed_ to be reminded of the image in the mirror. He drew every possible parallel, from the line of her jaw to the way her hair seemed like fire in the light.

He'd gone back every night. Yesterday, when Ginny had been tired after Astronomy, he'd dragged Ron off to that little room only they seemed to know about. Ron hadn't seen the same thing they had, but that was to be expected. Ron's desire had been a load of glory, glamour and girls.

His eyes snapped back to his shoulder, where his mother's hand had rested maybe forty hours ago now. It was like an ulcer. Every visit would give pause to the darkness, before once more it consumed him. He could see it in Ginny's eyes every time he said he wanted to return. He was falling. Slowly but surely, he was losing touch with the world around him. But what good was the world when he felt so empty?

"That was a bit extravagant there by Captain Cooper, but it has paid off. She has dodged Bludger, Beater and Chaser and is one on one with Bletchley. Flint will not catch her at that speed - yes, she's scored! 20-10 to Ravenclaw!"

Once again, Harry fell outside time's natural flow. He didn't feel like its master this time. He was its prisoner. Harry watched the world go by, feeling more and more alone as the Earth itself spun too fast, too fast for him to hold on. Ginny was watching him now. He realised suddenly that he couldn't _feel_ her, but this didn't shock him.

The ache was becoming more painful. He needed to see them again! He glanced around at the over-saturated world and grimaced as the pain began to spike. The only thing he could see clearly anymore was their faces in his mind.

"Is that the Snitch? The game hangs in the balance. It seems Flint has a memory after all, because he's keeping well clear!"

"Jordan!"

The Earth spun faster.

"Higgs has the Snitch! It's all over! Slytherin win 220-80!"

Harry felt like a marionette as he drifted out of the stadium. There was a feeling of intense discomfort at the back of his head now, too. He brought his unencumbered hand up to his face and flexed his fingers. Upon putting his hand down, he recognized that he was in the Entrance Hall. Wrenching his left hand free, he sprinted off towards the marble staircase. As he reached a particular, short corridor, out of sight of man and portrait alike, he threw his father's cloak over himself. _'Father...'_

He hadn't noticed Ginny's cry, or the others yelling after him. He simply had to get back to that mirror. As he ran closer, the pain began to ease slightly. He slowed down upon reaching the door, and opened it silently. The approach to the mirror was not something to be savoured as he had done before.

He stared hungrily at them. His mother, with her beautiful smile, was standing encircled by his father's arms. James Potter looked genuinely proud of his child, grinning and ruffling his hair even though they stood eye to eye. Then there were the others. An uncle was standing on Dad's left. He looked nearly identical to Dad, but he was taller, and he had a slightly smaller nose - his Uncle Andrew, who'd died as an infant.

Behind them stood his grandparents. Alexander Potter and Josephine Hall, a half-blood. His grandfather looked much like him, with Harry's father's hazel eyes and tall, slim build. A very beautiful woman, Josephine appeared youthful even in her fifties, with long, flowing brown hair and a gentle smile. She was holding the hand of her elder brother. William Hall had his sister's pale blue eyes, as did the infant his wife Claire was holding. All five had been killed in the attack of March '78. Many of those who weren't in the Ministry or Order of the Phoenix forces had gathered to discuss how they might contribute; everyone was called upon, even muggles, to take up arms. No one knew how Voldemort's forces had learned of the meeting. It was a massacre.

As emotion welled up inside him, he felt the pain begin to grow again. But this time, it was the discomfort in the back of his head that was bothering him. Something wasn't right.

He looked into Ginny's gorgeous brown eyes. They were older in the mirror, perhaps thirty years old. A son and daughter were running around them, laughing. The boy was like a little version of James, while the girl was a little Ginny. And in his arms he held a little boy who looked just like him. As he looked at the boy, he caught a look of his own reflection and froze. The look in his eyes was...

He backed away, millimetre by millimetre, afraid of what he still could see. His eyes were not their usual green, but a deep blood red. His face hadn't shown just eagerness, but a hunger that seemed inhuman. Harry fell backwards.

"I see that you finally understand, Harry."

He spun round, leaping to his feet. It was Professor Dumbledore! The discomfort at the back of his head faded.

"Sir, I'm so sorry!" Harry exclaimed.

The Headmaster's expression was grave. "I had hoped that it would not come this far," he said quietly. "Still, I am glad that you were able to turn away at the end, Harry. You have shown a strength of will and character that not many possess."

At the word 'possess', Harry felt quite nauseated. "What was the mirror doing to me, sir?"

The Headmaster took a deep breath. "Harry, let me speak to you a little of the Mirror of Erised. Clearly you already understand what it does."

Harry nodded shakily, "It shows us our deepest desire."

"Quite," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "It gives us neither knowledge, nor truth."

"But that's not quite right, is it, sir?"

Harry started. That was Ginny's voice. She sounded distressed. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. The memories were clearing up now, and he could remember all four of his friends asking him to not return.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," said Professor Dumbledore. "I wonder what it is that makes you say that?"

"It does give us truth, because it shows us what we truly desire. It just doesn't show us any kind of reality. Just because we see something in the mirror doesn't mean that it'll happen," she said.

Dumbledore smiled. "That is a valid point. What of knowledge, then?"

Ginny took a steadying breath. "If we know what our deepest desires are, and come to understand why we desire them, then it's harder for people to use them against us, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," the Headmaster replied. "Perhaps you are right, Miss Weasley. However, you would be wise to remember that there are always multiple possibilities. As Mr. Potter has just demonstrated, simply knowing what you desire most is not usually enough, and can be detrimental."

Harry closed his eyes tight, dropping his head in shame.

"Harry, do not be ashamed," Dumbledore said gently. "Many men have wasted away before this mirror, lost their minds and even their very souls. Its power is at once wonderful and terrible. Few have ever withstood it, and next to none have done so without prior understanding of it. It is an old relic of this world. We do not know who or what created it, but no-one has yet wielded the power to destroy it."

Opening his eyes, he met Ginny's, and felt a sudden flare of emotion in her corner of his mind. He felt her fear and anguish like a physical pain, but he relished it. Harry ran to encircle her in his arms. At first she stiffened, but as she relaxed his pain eased, and a contented smile broke out on his face. Dumbledore said nothing as they embraced, and Harry was grateful.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Harry whispered. "I don't know why–"

 ** _'It's alright, Harry,'_** she replied. **_'You're okay now. Just... don't let go of our bond again. I missed it more than I could have imagined.'_**

They broke apart slowly. Harry looked back at the mirror, to find that he no longer felt anything weird. Its hold over him was broken.

"Tomorrow, it will be moved to a new home, and I ask you not to go looking for it again," Dumbledore said to the both of them. An immense feeling of relief washed over Harry. "It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live." Harry smiled nervously, and squeezed Ginny's hand. "If ever you do run across it, you will now be prepared."

"Thank you, sir," they replied. Harry folded his cloak back into the front pocket of his rucksack. When he looked up again, Dumbledore was gone.

"Did you...?" Harry asked.

Ginny looked equally perplexed. "He's Dumbledore. I guess he probably has his own cloak, right?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. He took one last look at the mirror. _'The mirror giveth, and the mirror taketh away. Not today, though.'_

* * *

"Aw, allow it!" Dean cried.

"Eh?" Neville asked. Looking up to see what the fuss was about, Harry saw that Ron had overcome his fear of the arachno-GameBoy rather quickly.

"Ron, what did you do to it?" Dean asked desperately.

"Dunno," he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Come on, I'm gonna go crazy without my music!" Dean exclaimed, though a chuckle did escape him.

"Ask Harry, he probably knows more about it," Ron said in a flat voice.

Harry put his hands up in the air, and Dean laughed before smacking himself in the head.

"That's so unfair..." Dean muttered.

They were sitting in on this Saturday afternoon mainly because of the heavy rain outside, but also as part of the plan to collect Ron's birthday presents without his knowledge.

"Here, Dean, I'll ask Ginny for you," Harry said. "Maybe she has something to do with that thing working."

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I don't know why she would let it work, though. She's really pissed that Ron seems to find it more interesting than his friends."

"Meh," Ron muttered.

"That's kind of weird, isn't it?" Seamus asked.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, resting his feet on his footboard, and getting back to the copy of _The Lord of the Rings_ Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. He remembered laughing with her about how the illustration of Gandalf on the front cover looked remarkably like a younger Dumbledore. He also remembered how he hadn't gotten his hands on it until the end of January because Ginny had insisted on reading it first. _'Those two are such ridiculously fast readers...'_

"Well, she's a pure-blood, i'n't she?" Seamus said casually. "You'd expect a muggle-born to do something like that, wouldn't you?"

Harry felt Ginny's presence behind him, and wondered why he hadn't noticed before. "Well, sure, I'd expect Hermione to work out how to make electronics work around magic, but Ginny's the most brilliant witch I know. Still, I expect Hermione'll be the one to write a paper on it."

"A paper...?" Neville wondered aloud.

While Dean went to explain, Harry heard the curtain to his left shift, and looked up from his book just in time to see Ginny crawling up onto his bed.

"Blimey, what're you doin' in 'ere?" Seamus asked incredulously.

"You don't expect us all to leave, do you?" Neville asked, turning slightly pink.

"Tempting..." Ginny drawled, probably enjoying everyone's discomfort, "but no, it's alright."

"You're not allowed in 'ere," Seamus chuckled.

"So?" Ginny asked almost lazily as she got comfortable next to Harry. "Are you going to report me to McGonagall?"

"Nah, m'alright," he grinned.

"Hang on..." Ron said, looking up. "Ginny! What are you doing in here?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, protect me from the lanky oaf, would you?"

"I'm serious, I'll tell Mum!" he said. Neville and Seamus had taken cover at this point.

Ginny's hand glowed red. "Tell her what?"

"That you got into Harry's bed," he said bluntly. In Harry's opinion, he should have shut up while Ginny was still joking.

To Harry's surprise, Ginny took a deep breath, and dissipated the energy she'd built up. "Dear brother, please don't make me do something I'll regret later."

"Looks like you found your regret already," Harry commented quietly.

"Well, I did make a speech about not crossing lines, didn't I?" she replied. She grinned and continued conspiratorially, "Fred and George have a couple of things planned for him already. He's my brother, after all –I don't want him catatonic."

"Ginny, listen," Harry started. "I don't want to tell the others about the mirror."

Ginny frowned. "When you said to give it time I thought you were getting past it."

Harry sighed. How could he _get past it_? It was all that he could think about. Even the continuing whispers (and the Slytherins' taunts) about how he was technically dating his own sister couldn't penetrate the fog of gloom over what he'd almost done, _had_ done to his friends.

"I was... am, but I don't want to worry them. We've already got Fluffy, Snape and the Stone in the school, haven't we? With an evil mirror here, too, it might be a bit much."

"What mirror?" Neville asked quietly.

"Aw, crap," Harry muttered.

Ginny glanced at him before turning to Neville. "Neville, on Valentine's Day, me and Harry slipped out in the evening to meet the twins."

"And you didn't invite us along?" Neville asked, smirking.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we found the place we thought we were meeting them, but they weren't there. Turns out we went to the wrong floor. But in that room there was this huge, beautiful golden mirror. And inscribed over the top of that mirror were the words–"

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," Harry said.

Ginny gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. Please, stop blaming yourself." She turned back to Neville, who looked still more solemn now. "Well, we looked in the mirror–"

"Oh, no," Neville breathed. They looked up at him, ignoring the pillow-fight Dean and Seamus had started. "I've heard of that thing. The legend of the Mirror of Erised isn't a commonly known one, but my family is nearly as old as yours, Harry. These stories get passed down. The Mirror was a terrible thing. Nobody remembers where it came from, but we remember what it does... what it did... to its victims."

Neville shivered. "It isn't just a mirror. It's a sentient and sapient being. It's a little like a dementor, because it manipulates your emotions to make you vulnerable, then... then it drains your soul."

Harry and Ginny both stared at him, horrified, realising how close they'd come.

"It killed loads of people before the Wizards' Council decided to destroy it. They failed, and everyone who attacked it died. So they decided that the empath, Dionisia Black, should try to move the mirror to a secure location. She never told anyone where she hid it, and the mirror was never heard of again."

"Empath?" Harry asked.

"In the time Neville's talking about, which is sort of 8th century to the 18th, wizards and witches were classified into Orders under the Council. There was an Order for each element, an Order of empaths, scholars... Basically, there was an Order for anything a sorcerer could be or do," Ginny explained. "Empaths studied emotions and telepathy. Dionisia Black is fairly well known, she was head of her Order for ages."

Neville nodded.

"So your families taught you guys all this stuff?" Harry asked.

Ginny grinned. "We don't spend our pre-school years just romping around the countryside, you know."

"Wow," was all Harry could say. The image of his father came to mind, and he felt a pang of loss at what he'd missed out on. Mrs Weasley was doing her best, he knew, but it would never be what it could have been.

"Harry," Neville prodded. He looked to his friend. "What do you say someday we go find your family's castle and dig up your family history?"

He choked up, caught completely off guard. "I... I think I'd like that, Neville." They exchanged smiles and gripped each other's hands.

"Thank the gods that thing didn't take you, Harry," Neville said earnestly, sitting back down in his own bed.

"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ginny asked. Harry didn't reply. He just pulled her to him tightly, drawing comfort from her presence. As he pulled back, she pressed herself back into him, kissing him passionately. They didn't notice the pillow-fight come to an abrupt and decisive end.

A distracted Dean took a heavy blow to the head and fell back stunned onto Ron, who yelled and cursed. "Bloody _hell_! I had it, damn you! Level 15... _Get_ off!"

* * *

Harry was up early for the first time in a long time. Pulling his invisibility cloak from his bag and his broom from under his bed, he crept to the window, jumping out into the light rain.

Mounting his broom in freefall, he kicked it into a sharp, but slow incline, and drifted up to his window while wrapping the cloak around himself. Closing the window silently, he floated around the tower to the window between Ginny and Hermione. As expected, both were already waiting. They opened the window at the sight of his broom handle, and he flew in, careful to stay a clear metre off the ground.

"Well, that's a rather strange thing to see floating at face level," Ginny mused.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry pulled the cloak off himself. "Right," he muttered. "What's the plan?"

"There isn't one," Ginny yawned.

"Ginny'll be going with you," Hermione confirmed.

Harry smirked. "Sure you trust us?"

"About as far as I could throw you," said Hermione nonchalantly. "But he's your best friend and brother. I'd say you had a vested interest."

"Oh, you're all wet," Ginny crooned. She reached out a hand, and passed it over him. He felt quite warm, and suddenly quite dry as well.

Meanwhile, Hermione was casting some spell on his cloak. "There, now it should repel water."

"Hermione, that can't be a first year spell," Harry commented.

"You're right," she agreed, "it isn't. It's not a second year spell either, because I bought most of those books over Christmas and it isn't in there. I found it in a utility Charms spellbook from the library. Now pass me your glasses."

"Wait a second. That cloak already has the power of invisibility. Are you saying you're giving it even more powers?" Harry asked incredulously.

" _Impervius._ Here you are, Harry. No, I'm not. These charms are temporary enhancements, nothing more. Even invisibility cloaks lose their effectiveness over time. Yours seems to be of especially fine quality, that's all."

Harry had given up trying to work out how Hermione had managed to learn so much about magic in so little time.

"Come on, Harry," said Ginny as she clambered up behind him. Hermione helped wrap the cloak around them.

"See you, 'Mione," Harry waved invisibly. Her grin wasn't concealed quite so well.

Ginny yawned quietly as they accelerated, wrapping her arms tight around Harry's chest. She rested her cheek against his back, and he felt a strong tingling sensation there. Shivering for no reason associated with the cold, he pushed the broom on harder through the rain.

Still unable to see the Owlery, he performed a loose barrel roll just to have something to focus on. He relished the feeling of the half-asleep Ginny tightening her hold on him. After thirty seconds, and while still upside-down, he caught a glimpse of the outline of the building. He stretched out along the broom handle, and pushed back on the footrests, accelerating the Nimbus to cruising speed. The darkness soon retreated from the stonework, leaving the Owlery as an island of grey in the void. Harry relaxed into a sitting position as they neared it, taking his left foot off the footrest so that they slowed and drifted to the left, around the building to the nearest window. A satisfied smile pulled at his lips as they glided in without a hitch.

"We need to look for Errol," Ginny said tiredly, "and maybe Hedwig and Hermes, too. We asked them all to keep their packages here."

Harry smiled. "Not get much sleep?"

"Not _nearly_ enough," she moaned. "Hermione's a slave driver." Harry chuckled, and received a poke in the shoulder for his troubles. "I'm serious. I swear she woke me at least a half hour early."

"Well, I'm sure you're plotting something," Harry replied. "Hedwig! Here, girl."

The snowy owl fluttered down to him, flapping her wings to keep level. In her talons was a purple package with green ribbon, and a little envelope stuck to the side. Harry thanked her and took the package. She then flew back, and returned with another, blue parcel. This continued, with Harry attaching the packages to the underside of the Nimbus by looping the ribbons over the broom handle.

"Thanks, girl," Harry said gratefully once Hedwig was finished. "Get some rest now."

Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip on the finger before lifting off the end of the Nimbus, passing a wing over Ginny's shoulder before flying back up to her perch.

Harry floated up to the next landing, and flew slowly out of the window, making sure that he didn't get any of the parcels caught in the masonry. Once free, he accelerated with abandon, racing the advancing sunlight back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

"Oi, Harry! Neville!" Ron called. Something hit the curtain of his four-poster, but heavy as the curtain was, nothing came through. "Guess what day it is!"

"I don't know... Sunday?" Neville asked. Harry grinned in the darkness.

"Aw, shut it, Weasley," Seamus groaned.

"It's my birthday!" Ron cried. Harry heard his feet hit the ground.

"And it's my sister's birthday, too, but she's not waking me up," Dean muttered. Harry heard the pillow hit Ron, but Ron didn't react. "Mind you, she probably would've done if I was home..."

"What time is it?" Seamus asked.

"Eight past six," Harry replied.

"Blast you, Weasley, it's Sunday!" Seamus cried.

"Meh," Neville muttered, "we're up now, anyway. Come on, Ron. Just be aware that if you try and wake the girls, you'll be facing six wands and _your_ sister."

Harry snorted. _'Like Ron'd get that far.'_

"Wonder where my presents are...?" Ron mused, slipping into a pair of trainers.

"Hermione's were at the foot of her bed," Harry offered.

"Yeah," Seamus agreed, "same with me, Parvati and Fay."

"Anyone else find it a bit annoying that the girls are growing so bloody fast?" Dean interjected.

"I'll be honest," Harry answered, "Ginny was the only one shorter than me at the start of the year, and she's a year younger."

"It does feel pretty darn odd," Seamus added. "I mean, I was never the tallest in me class, but Fay and Hermione _dwarf_ me now."

Neville sniggered. "It's just because they start earlier," he said. "Give it a year or so and we'll be back on top."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nev?" Dean quipped. Seamus roared with laughter.

"Because you're in such a great position to be laughing, Seamus," Harry butted in. "I'm sure Lavender'll be all over you in another week."

"Yeah, well, I'm working on it, Mr. Smooth," Seamus replied.

"Of course," Neville sniggered.

"Oi, Nev, Harry," Ron called. "You coming?"

"Ron, where do you expect your presents to be that you can go get them at six in the morning?" Neville asked.

"Aw, come on," Ron pleaded.

"Fine," Harry said. "Just give us a minute to change, alright?"

"Fine," Ron replied. He left, presumably to go to the bathroom. They were communal affairs, one to each year, set in the centre of the spiral staircase, its door across from that of the dorm room.

"I can smell the surprise party," Dean commented casually.

"Yup," Harry admitted. "Ginny's idea. Apparently, Fred and George have their own plans, though."

"To be expected, ain't it?" Seamus asked.

They grinned. Harry pulled on a black t-shirt and jeans. He was still pleasantly surprised at how comfortable snug-fitting clothes were.

He noticed that Neville only put on his school robes. He remembered fondly the way the linings of his robes had coloured themselves in front of him after the Sorting. An idea for a prank suddenly occurred to him, and he found himself a little more eager to get downstairs.

Slipping on a pair of Reeboks, Harry pulled his wand from under his pillow. He stowed it in the special, fitted pouch he'd made on the right leg of his jeans with the spare material he'd found in the pocket. This way, the handle showed, but someone would have to get in a very compromising position with him in order to pull it out. It went without saying that he was rather proud of it.

Once Ron was back from the bathroom, they finished up and followed him down the stairs. Harry and Neville purposely kept to a sedate pace, and before they were halfway down Ron was almost visibly vibrating. Just as they'd practiced, Harry sent Ginny a telepathic message by focusing on a mental image of her. They couldn't send words over distance yet, but they could send their emotions with incredible acuity. As the feeling of happiness and fulfilment settled deep within him, he knew that she had received his message.

"Surprise!"

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione were waiting at the foot of the stairs, laden with gifts. "Um, thanks guys."

Hermione beamed. "We have cake–"

"And butterbeer," George added.

"Our treat," said Fred. Harry made a mental note to steer clear of it. He met Ginny's eyes; she winked, and he blessed his judgement.

"I guess we aren't to ask where you got it?" Neville asked.

"You shouldn't be so suspicious, my man," George scolded.

"Yeah, we've had plenty of Hogsmeade visits this year. Isn't that right, George?" Fred said cheerfully.

"Dead right, dear brother. I seem to recall you spent most of your time _tasting_ the delights," George jibed.

"Ah, George possesses such refreshing wit, does he not?" Fred ground out.

"Almost as refreshing as..." Fred's glare cut George off mid-trail.

"Not that we don't enjoy this," Ginny drawled, "but I think Ron would appreciate his presents right about now."

Harry had to bite his lip to stop himself laughing. It had been difficult to distinguish, but while the twins had been arguing, Ginny had managed to switch the Butterbeers.

Ron tore into the parcels with wild abandon. Wrapping paper flew everywhere. The Gryffindor common room had to be about fifteen metres or so across, but no part of it was spared. He'd gotten Mega Man for the GameBoy from Harry, and a league-standard Quaffle from Neville. The official Quaffles had little bumps all over them to help people grip them and a series of charms to prevent people cheating, headlined by a general-purpose anti-enchantment ward which redirected most charms into an Impervius Charm. This, of course, couldn't affect play since Quaffles had the charm applied already to make them easier to handle in the rain.

"Here, George, have you even had a go on that thing yet?" Fred asked, grinning and indicating the GameBoy.

"Somehow, I doubt you'll be getting your hands on it anytime soon," Harry commented.

"I haven't even finished Mario on hard yet!" Ron moaned.

"And that is why the Ministry didn't want you to know about video games," Hermione said drily.

Ginny's present was the latest copy of _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad muggle_ , although Ron admitted he had slightly less time and patience for the comic, what with all the cool, real muggle stuff he now had. Hermione had bought him _25 Moments that Changed Quidditch_ , and for the first time in a while, Ron seemed enthusiastic about a book. His parents, on the other hand, had gone one step further, and bought him the last three issues of a magazine called Game Informer.

"Hey, that's the guy from the game you got me," Ron said to Harry, pointing at the front cover.

"Oh yeah," Ginny blurted out. "Do you think you two'd be able to come over during Easter?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "I'm staying at Hogwarts for Easter..."

"Me too," Neville added. "We'll ask, though."

"Anyway, Ron hasn't opened..."

"Our presents yet," George finished.

"Well, present, really," Fred qualified.

"But who's counting?" said George.

 _'They_ are _smooth. Gotta give them that.'_

Ron tore into the last parcel to reveal an innocent-looking pack of chocolate frogs. After a quick thanks to the twins, he opened the first box and cut short the simulacrum's animation. When nothing happened to him, everyone turned to look at the twins.

"What, we can't just give our little brother a normal birthday present?" George asked in a vaguely offended tone.

They all shrugged, assuming something or another had gone wrong. Meanwhile, Fred passed Butterbeers around, and Hermione gave Ron the knife so he could cut the cake. After making a wish (which he refused to share with them), he gave everyone a slice of the chocolate cake Fred and George had 'found lying around in the kitchens'.

However, he started by raising the bottle of Butterbeer. "Don't tell Mum," he said, not taking his eyes off the bottle, then drained it. Fred and George had a silent high-five before downing their own bottles. Ginny smirked in his direction. Harry kept an eye on the twins. Taking a drink from his own bottle, he found the drink to be quite sweet, and gave him a fuzzy feeling inside as it slipped down.

"How much have we got?" asked a smirking Neville.

"About three each," George replied.

"Cooling charms on all," Fred added.

Hermione was giving her bottle a funny look. "Should we really be drinking alcohol?" she asked hesitantly.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry replied, "it tastes great."

"Yeah, come on Hermione," George echoed.

"Look, I'm not drunk, am I?" Fred asked in a shaky voice before collapsing to the floor, laughing. "Here, give me a hand, Hermione, won't you?"

She extended her hand, but then she clamped it over her mouth, staring at Fred's forehead. Harry followed her gaze and almost dropped his bottle laughing.

As if being drawn on with a permanent marker, black writing was appearing on his skin.

George did drop his bottle. "Wait till Angie sees you!" he hooted.

"Not doing so bad yourself, bro," Fred replied, smirking.

"Eh?" George conjured a small mirror, and blinked in disbelief at his reflection. "We've been done."

"Looks like it," Fred agreed.

George grinned. "Can't get anything past this lot."

Neville was squinting into his own bottle, probably trying to glimpse his own reflection.

"Go on," Fred prompted.

"Who was it?" they finished together.

Ginny curtsied, grinning, before taking another swig of her Butterbeer.

"So, what do I say, then?" Fred asked.

"Either get that off your face or I'll hex it off!"

Angelina had skin of a dark shade of brown, but everyone could see the angry flush on her cheeks. She stormed over from the girls' staircase, her wand slipping from her skirt pocket to her hand so fast Harry didn't even see it. Or perhaps the alcohol in the Butterbeer had him slightly addled.

"Hey! Hey, Angie," Fred cried apologetically, "this wasn't my fault, I swear! I don't even know what it says!"

"And you never will!" she glared. " _Incen-_!"

" _Protego!_ " Fred cast hurriedly. "Hey, George, how do you reverse this?"

"You can't," George grinned. "Lasts five hours, and if you try to do anything to it..."

" _Evanesco!_ " Angelina cried.

"It flashes," George finished. "I love Zonko's."

"That's all you two'll be loving if you keep on this way," Angelina growled. " _Obscuro_."

A blindfold covered Fred's eyes, and the lewdly flashing _'Sex God'_ on his forehead.

"You're a git, Fred," said Angelina. Alicia had caught up to her at this point.

"A blind git, now," he remarked. "I wasn't lying. That stuff was meant to happen to this lot."

Hermione got a smug look on her face. " _Come on, Hermione, it tastes great!_ " she mocked.

"Yeah, well, I saw Ginny do the switch, didn't I?" Harry defended. "Look, it's safe — give it a go."

Ron chose that particular moment to pass wind.

"Ugh!"

"Sorry," Ron muttered sheepishly. Then it happened again. They all started to back away. It happened again and again and again, before picking up the tune of _Dementors on Fire_ , the Weird Sisters' latest single.

"Farting frogs!" Fred and George tried to high-five each other, but with the blindfold on Fred missed hopelessly and ended up getting hit in the face.

Laughing uproariously, George conjured a length of white cloth. He removed the blindfold Angelina had produced, and tied the cloth around Fred's head like a bandana.

Angelina chuckled quietly. "You can keep yours, George."

"Cheers, Angie," he grinned.

He turned a raised eyebrow and a smirk on Alicia, who giggled. "You're spoken for, so no thanks."

George rubbed his forehead gently, grinning. The ' _Free Snogging'_ was perfectly visible, even under his fringe. "This is going to be fun."

Hermione took another look at her Butterbeer, before handing it to Harry. "You can have it if you like it so much."

"Cheers, 'Mione," he grinned.

It was at this point that Oliver came down the stairs with his Cleansweep Six-K. "Glad to see you lot up already. George, what's... never mind. Where's Katie?"

The Quidditch players among them groaned and stood up to retrieve their brooms. "I'll get it for you, Harry," Ginny said brightly. Fred and George stopped in their tracks as if they'd hit a brick wall, then turned slowly in unison. Ginny, paying them no heed, skipped up the stairs to the first year boys' dorm room.

The twins looked at Harry. "What?" he asked blankly, though he was churning inside.

"Is there any reason why–" Fred began.

"Our sister is familiar with your room?" George ended accusingly.

Neville was almost crying with laughter, his fingers squeezed tight over his nose in an attempt to hold back his mirth.

Blood rose to Harry's cheeks, and he found himself praying for Ginny to return. "I... she... we... that's to say... nothing _happened_... she just, you know..."

"Oh leave the poor boy alone," Angelina smirked.

A whooshing sound began to build. Harry stared disbelievingly at the staircase, waiting for the inevitable.

"Wheeeee!" Ginny rocketed out towards them, spinning as she came.

Harry dodged to the side, and tried to grab her as she passed. She evaded him with ease, turning her roll into a barrel roll which took her right up to the ceiling before kicking the broom into a lower flight path. By kicking the footrests into a lower position than the handle, she had initiated counter-thrust propulsion in the broom as it righted itself.

Having skilfully directed the counter-thrust into forward motion, she combined the normal forward thrust enchantments on the broom with its upward thruster, which effectively slingshotted her out of the portrait hole.

Harry stood for a moment admiring the move, which must have been heavily physically taxing, before charging after her, yelling. "Ginny! Come back with my broom!"

* * *

"...And their Seeker, Harry Potter!"

Harry felt some relief from the cool wind. Ginny's good luck kiss had been much longer this time. He didn't think he really needed the luck, though. With Dumbledore in the stands, there was no chance Snape would try anything. Mimicking Ginny's move from earlier, he kicked the footrests clean away from him so that he was more standing on the broom than riding it.

After a half-second of aerial drift, he stretched himself taught along the broom handle, wrestling it straight into a horizontal position. It paid off with a spectacular burst of acceleration, but Harry knew he would have to start doing more crunches if he planned on doing it very often. The strain on his core had been quite painful. Still, the move seemed to be a crowd-pleaser.

Finding Ginny's eye, he winked, then pulled up, slowly barrel-rolling in a tight circle while accelerating towards the congregation of players in the middle of the pitch. He looped around from under them, shedding speed and rotating until he came to rest opposite the Hufflepuff Seeker, a pretty seventh-year girl called Crystal Ayre.

"Nice moves, Potter," she smirked. "This broom ought to even the playing field, so let's see how good you really are, eh?" She was riding a Cleansweep Seven-R, he realised. When he looked up, she winked, and he felt himself blushing.

"Yeah, we _will_ see," he agreed, trying to act confident.

"Why don't we make this more interesting," she drawled, stretching out luxuriously on the broom. "Two galleons says I'll get to the Snitch first."

 _'Why the hell do all girls seem to love making us uncomfortable?!'_

"Sure, why not," he replied. His mind cursed his mouth. Two galleons was all he had with him in wizard money.

"Alright, that's enough," Snape sneered. "Mister Potter already has enough strains on his bank account let alone his precious time, Miss Ayre. There's no need to add another to the list."

They both glared at him, but he was paying no attention. Catching each other's eye, they began to snigger.

Snape flicked his wand at the Quaffle, and the game was on. From the start, Crystal seemed set on outdoing him. Wherever he flew, she was higher. Whenever he dived, she would dive further and faster, and on the way back up she'd barrel roll around him. They continued this strange dance even as Snape gave away penalty after penalty to the Hufflepuffs for some offences that Harry was sure were made up. After the first two, the Hufflepuff Chasers started missing some on purpose to try and even things out. Harry admired their sportsmanship, but if he didn't get the Snitch and soon, Gryffindor would be in trouble.

He suddenly felt a sense of great surprise in his mind, and looked towards his friends in the stands. Right in front of Ginny's nose was the Snitch! He shot off towards it, with Crystal right in his slipstream. The racing model of the Cleansweep Seven had slightly better acceleration than the Nimbus even without the aid of his slipstream, and Crystal drew level before they were even half-way there.

She laughed. "Two galleons to me, I guess!" Harry narrowed his eyes at her, flattening himself to the Nimbus entirely and pulling a streamlined version of the slingshot move. He initially fell back a few metres, but the burst of acceleration at high speed gave him a huge edge. By the time they'd reached his friends in the Gryffindor stands, he was a good ten broom-lengths ahead. But the Cleansweep's higher top speed was allowing Crystal to slowly pull that back, and the Snitch hadn't waited for them. Harry grinned down at his classmates as he whipped past them. Drawing himself as tight to his broom as he could, he found that his smaller frame was keeping his drag down. Although Crystal was back in his slipstream, she was only catching him at walking pace. That would be enough. He hoped.

Led by an adventurous Snitch, they ducked down into the river valley that fed the Black Lake. Harry glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't hear her, but he could see the predatory grin on her face. She was close now. Seeing the first bridge looming ahead, Harry chose the high path, through the bridge rather than under it. He hoped that Crystal would stick to the straighter path, and that the loss of his slipstream would hurt her speed. It didn't. He came down right on top of her, and it took some quick manoeuvring to prevent himself kicking her in the head.

"You really ought to try knocking me off, Potter," Crystal called. The wind pulled at her voice even though there was barely a foot separating them.

"Not my style," he replied. He felt the blow coming rather than saw it. Just as she strafed left ready to smash into him, he ducked ever so slightly, and she passed harmlessly over him. The Snitch was still a good ten metres away, and adrenaline was pumping through him. He looked over at Crystal. Her attention was once more devoted to the Snitch. Looking back at it, he was just in time to see it jerk upwards. They followed it up, and the Nimbus's greater power now had the advantage over the Cleansweep's superior aerodynamics and reduced weight, as they were fighting gravity more than air resistance.

The Snitch changed direction again, cutting back over them and towards the stadium. Harry elected not to right himself, and gained the advantage once more, though Crystal was still moving faster. Harry felt seconds tick by, knowing that in reality his watch would not yet have made a sound. Crystal was maybe five inches behind, and still catching.

As soon as she drew level, she extended her arm. It was true that she had much greater reach, but Harry decided to wait and time his lunge. She had lost her speed advantage in her eagerness, and now there was only the painful wait as they hurtled through the air at a hundred odd miles an hour, inching closer and closer to their prize. It was almost within reach for the Hufflepuff. She couldn't hold back her grin.

She shouldn't have been so sure of herself.

Harry leapt off his broom, releasing all the tension in his body in one, fluid action that sent him arcing over his rival and crashing down over the Snitch.

He grinned as he felt it trapped in his hand. It was over. But it wasn't. At least, not if you counted the fifty metre fall. He grimaced as he lost more and more forward momentum in favour of downward acceleration. Suddenly, g-forces wrenched at him as he felt the momentum shifts reverse. _'What in the name of-'_

"Come on, Potter. Let's find your broom." He grinned up at Crystal, and clambered on behind her.

"Thanks for the ride," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied. "Now let's get you back on that Nimbus before my boyfriend sees."

He sniggered. "You're a good flier, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know," she replied. "I'm trying out for the Holyhead Harpies once I leave."

"That's pretty cool. Oh, there it is."

Crystal nodded and slowed down, taking her feet off the footrests and letting the broom freefall for a bit. Harry jumped off, grabbing a hold of the Nimbus and swinging up onto it. The Nimbus hummed to him as they zoomed off towards the stands, and he held the Snitch aloft as they returned to indicate his victory. A sudden roar from the stadium told him that it had been noticed.

"You've got a talent for that showboating stuff," Crystal told him. "Charlie took a different approach. He was more direct. But even though you fly with style, it doesn't seem to slow you down at all."

Her appraising look was bringing the colour back to his cheeks. "Yeah, well... I try," he replied.

"It's certainly been an honour, Potter–" she said as they returned to the pitch over the Ravenclaw stands.

"Call me Harry," he interjected. She grinned. He looked over at the scoreboard, which showed the end result as 160-110 to Gryffindor.

"Well played, _Harry_ ," she said jokingly. "Looks like you've got quite the party waiting for you down there."

Looking down, he saw that there had been a pitch invasion, and not just by Gryffindors, either. Snape seemed to have retreated in disgust at their happiness.

Harry descended into the throng. After a congratulatory kiss from Ginny, he found that six people were trying to talk to him at once.

"That catch was amazing, Harry!" Neville cried. At the same time, Hermione was scolding him for taking such a risk; Ron was going on about how Malfoy had turned up in the Gryffindor stands with Crabbe and Goyle to give them a ribbing and left with a black eye. At this, he turned and looked properly at his friends, noting that Neville had a bruised cheek and a fat lip, while Ron had a cut above his eye and a heavy nosebleed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a little shocked that he hadn't noticed before.

"Yeah," Neville answered. "As soon as we started to really get hurt, Ginny just waved her hand and they were all under the Full Body-Bind. It was brilliant!"

"Actually, I only did Malfoy," Ginny corrected him. "Turn around."

Dean and Seamus waved cheekily, and they thanked them gladly.

He turned and looked back towards Crystal. She was walking towards the Hufflepuff dugout with a brunette and a large guy who was probably her boyfriend. Crystal caught his eye and winked.

Harry caught something instinctively by his head. Turning, he found a slightly crumpled paper airplane in his hand. Scrawled on it was the message:

I'll give you your winnings at lunch. Good game, Harry.

He chuckled.

"What is it?" Ginny frowned, before grabbing the thing out of his hand.

"A bet," he replied. "I won a bet."

* * *

Harry breathed deeply of the chill night air as he walked back to the broom shed after dinner. There had actually been some damage done to his Nimbus during the last game, and Fred had advised him that there were a few maintenance kits in there. He held his broom up in front of him as he walked, once again appraising the damage. It amounted to a footrest bent slightly backwards, a couple of bent twigs and a faint mark down the side of the handle where his foot had apparently scraped the varnish off.

Harry's head spun to lock on a movement in the distance before he'd even realised he'd seen something. Squinting through the darkness, Harry saw a shadow moving by the Great Hall. Harry couldn't help his curiosity. He pulled his cloak out of his bag and hopped onto the Nimbus, floating towards the figure. It resolved as a tall person in a dark, heavy cloak, but there was no mistaking that prowling walk. Snape was heading for the Forbidden Forest. He flew slightly higher, wanting to avoid being heard.

Professor Snape picked up his already rapid pace, and was clearly running now. Even at his distance, Harry could hear the ground squelching slightly under the man's boots.

Harry was forced to fly higher as they reached the forest, and he could no longer see where he was headed. He needn't have bothered. He could hear the hissing of voices within seconds. He drifted lower and lower, eventually perching on a lower branch of a large beech tree. He squeezed his legs tight around both broom and branch, while keeping a death-grip on the branch with his hands. He was screwed if his broom fell.

He shifted around a bit, trying to get a clear line of sight. Their voices drifted up to him.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I –"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you–"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly above his head, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He pulled flush to the branch, but couldn't stop himself rolling around it, leaving himself hanging upside down with his broom sitting on top. The cloak remained held to the branch by his left foot, but the other side of it fluttered off him, returning him to visibility. He froze, blood pounding in his ears, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be seen. When it was clear that they hadn't noticed him, he slowly pulled the cloak back over himself. As his hearing returned to him though, the conversation had moved on:

"–your little bit of hocus-pocus," Snape said darkly. "I'm waiting."

Harry waited for a few minutes until he was sure they were long gone, then launched himself and his broom out of the tree setting off directly for Gryffindor Tower, any thought of repairing the Nimbus long gone from his mind. He dropped his broom in the dorm room, and ran down to find his friends. He met them just outside the portrait hole.

"Come on," Harry urged. "Somewhere private."

"Huh?" Neville asked.

He didn't answer, but simply dragged him and Ron along the corridor to the nearest unused classroom.

"Right," said Ginny. "What happened?"

"Snape did," Harry replied. "All this time we haven't even given a thought to the Stone, but he has."

He relayed the conversation between the two Professors as best he could, and their expressions fell with appropriate alacrity.

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Hermione asked in alarm.

Ginny and Ron exchanged worried looks. "It'll be gone by Tuesday," Ron stated with a miserable certainty.


	13. 13 - Easter Break

Harry couldn't help but worry as he packed for the holiday. They'd spent their last weeks doing all they could to make Professor Quirrell's life easier. They told people off for mocking his stutter, gave him encouraging smiles when they passed him in the corridors... All in all, his health seemed to be deteriorating, but his resolve was holding — just. It would be a bit conceited of him to think that their efforts alone were keeping Quirrell up and fighting, but he had the feeling that the anxious young professor needed all the help he could get.

He slammed the trunk shut, and sat down heavily next to it on his bed, smirking over at the random pile of clothes that was the result of Ron's 'packing'. His best friend would have work to do tonight, or more likely tomorrow morning. The other boys in their year were staying at school. Either way, they had a lot of revising to do, as Hermione had pointed out. She'd been quite passionate about it, claiming that they were vital since the results decided whether or not you could progress to the next year.

Harry sighed, picking up the revision guide she'd badgered him into making. Things didn't look so bad right now, if he was honest. Ginny had surprised him a few days ago, saying that she would work through the revision with them.

 _"_ _There's not much point in me having loads of free time if you're just glued to your books."_

He stood up and went back downstairs. It being a Saturday, he had Quidditch practice in the afternoon, so he decided to get on with his revision while he still had time. Ginny was already there, poring over his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. Ron had _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ open in front of him, but his longing glances at the GameBoy were probably a good indication of how much attention he was giving it. Neville was happily absorbed in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , and was surrounded by notes.

Harry shook his head, grinning, when he saw that Hermione's section of the table they were sitting around was invisible. She had apparently colour coded her notes as well, since the tabs on the rolls of parchment formed a nice little rainbow across the table. There was a small pile of rolled-up parchments on the floor beside her chair. At the moment, she was using felt tips to draw some kind of spider diagram. He began to wonder just how much paper and parchment Hermione Granger owned.

He slipped into Ginny's chair next to her. **_'Where have you got to?'_** he asked.

 ** _'_** ** _The Lumos Charm and its uses against Dark magic,'_** Ginny recited.

 ** _'_** ** _Okay, so what did I miss before that?'_** he asked.

 ** _'_** ** _The introduction?'_**

He narrowed his eyes at her as she smiled innocently up at him. **_'Fine. Close the book.'_** Once she complied, he went on, **_'How is the Lumos Charm performed?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _The wand is moved through a crescent shape through rotation of the wrist, while incanting 'loo-mos'. The counter-charm is 'nox', which is accompanied by a vertical shake of the wand.'_** Ginny grinned up at him. _**'Are we done yet, Professor?'**_

 ** _'_** ** _Any more of that and it'll be detention,'_** he smirked. **_'Explain its application against the Dark Arts.'_**

She sighed theatrically. **_'Light is a powerful weapon when you are surrounded by darkness. Some creatures such as gytrashes are vulnerable to light, and a bright light can also distract some Dark creatures. It can also be used as an offensive weapon, able to at least temporarily blind someone without too much power, since it can be focused so easily.'_**

Harry shifted in the seat, turning to look her incredulously in the eye. **_'Okay, how many times have you read that?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Twice,'_** she grinned. **_'Once at the start of term, while I was waiting for Madam Pince to get a copy of_** **Hell Hound** ** _, and then again just now.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _You must really love books to be such a good reader,'_** he said.

Ginny shrugged. **_'I don't know. I suppose... Well, it's not like I was playing pranks on my brothers all the time. Most of them weren't even there all the time. When I was left behind, there wasn't much else for me to do.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I guess being an epic reader probably would be a useful skill right now,'_** he grumbled half-heartedly.

 ** _'_** ** _Well, you've got one to help you out,'_** she said. **_'Do you think that's enough?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I don't know,'_** he replied. _**'Can I take you into the exams in my pocket?'**_

Ginny giggled. **_'I don't think McGonagall would be too happy if she found out.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah, if...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Oh, shut it you,'_** she laughed.

"What's so funny?" Neville asked. Harry smirked over at him, and Neville dropped his head, turning quite pink. "Never mind."

 ** _'_** ** _You know, if it'll save this kind of rush, I might have to do some reading ahead myself over the summer,'_** Harry speculated.

 ** _'_** ** _Careful,'_** Ginny laughed, _**'if Ron hears you say that he'll never talk to you again!'**_

Harry snorted. **_'Okay, the use of the Engorgement Charm...'_**

* * *

The brakes hissed as the air pressure was released, and the train immediately began to roll forwards. Even though the engine had been warming up for a half hour, acceleration was slow for the first ten seconds or so. Harry heard the wheels slip on the tracks, that nasty grinding, scraping noise of metal on metal that made him clench his teeth reflexively. As the six drive wheels gained purchase, Hagrid, Neville and Hermione grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, even Hagrid's enormous form was lost, and they brought their heads back inside the carriage. Harry kicked back and grinned contentedly.

"What're you so happy about?" Ron asked.

"No bloody Slytherins are going to spoil this journey," he replied.

Harry had barely closed his mouth before the twins poked their heads inside the compartment. "You lot aren't going to be revising, are you?" they said simultaneously.

"That depends," said Ginny.

"On what, sis?" George asked.

"On what else there is to do," Harry shrugged.

"Unless you've got something planned..." Ginny suggested.

They sat down heavily on the opposite bench. "For once..." said George.

"We've got nothing," Fred finished.

The twins received suspicious looks from the first years, but no-one said anything. Harry pulled out _The Lord of the Rings_. He was nearly finished, and hoped to have it done by the time they reached King's Cross.

Saruman turned to go, and Wormtongue shuffled after him. But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground.

He glanced up at the twins, who were tampering with a few stink pellets. He thought better of asking what they were doing, and returned to his book.

Five minutes later, Harry's eyes widened as he reread the passage. Ginny smiled, **_'He's leaving, right?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah...'_** he replied. **_'I... didn't see that coming.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _It's a good book,'_** she shrugged. **_'You're not meant to be able to predict all the twists.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah... I've got to thank Hermione.'_**

She smirked up at him. **_'We haven't even started on her movie list yet.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Ginny, the Burrow doesn't have electricity,'_** Harry pointed out.

 ** _'_** ** _Details,'_** she said airily. **_'We'll think of something.'_**

* * *

Harry shut the book gently, slipping it back into his pocket. "Wow," he breathed. Ginny grinned at him. "A _bit_ long, but still..."

"Nothing wrong with a good book," Ginny commented.

"Eh?" Ron looked around. "Aw, not you as well, Harry."

Ginny burst out laughing. "Ron, you read enough yourself!"

"Yeah, but comics don't count," he replied condescendingly.

She looked from the magazine in his hands, to Harry, to the twins and back. "Right," she drawled. "Have it your own way."

Ron shook his head and went back to reading. Fred smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead.

"Right, this has been very entertaining and everything..."

"But there's this Slytherin by the name of Flint on the train..."

"And we want to give him Hogwarts' parting gift."

With that, the twins left. Harry and Ginny looked at each other, then at Ron. They all jumped for the compartment door, but the carriage corridor was empty. The twins had just disappeared. Ginny glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eye, before darting back into their compartment. She returned with the invisibility cloak, throwing it over all three of them. Since Percy happened to be in the next compartment with the other fifth year Gryffindor prefect, it was probably a good idea.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express made a disturbing grinding noise as mechanical parts with no direct physical connection to each other tried to synchronously slow down. Its red 'paint' glowed still brighter as the energy within it was released through a series of Transducer Charms. Metal groaned. Steam hissed out of the funnel, though there was no fire to heat it — the Motivation Charms that powered the train were dissipated more easily and safely through the water than through the train itself.

The driver sent up silver sparks, invisible to the untrained eye amongst all the magically charged steam, but a clear signal to the guard that all was well. Mere inches from the buffers, the train ground to a halt and a loud hiss from the brakes served to acknowledge the driver's signal. The doors clicked and opened of their own accord, and students poured out of the carriages, paying no heed to the centuries-old marvel they were leaving behind.

Lugging his trunk, Harry laughed aloud as he saw Marcus Flint emerge from the second carriage walking a little awkwardly. He didn't know how the twins had managed to charm the stink pellets to do that, but he took immense satisfaction in the way Flint was involuntarily displaying his discomfort. Even his mother didn't seem to want to get too close.

He looked back to Ginny, who had found their parents already, and hurried to catch up. A slight smile quirked Mum's lips when she saw him. "Hello, Harry," she said, giving him a crushing hug. "I'm glad this didn't cause too much fuss for you," she gushed.

"No, it's been fine, Mum, really," he replied with a grin.

"Well, as long as there's been no trouble," she affirmed. He tried not to shift under her gaze. It made him feel guilty in a way that Vernon's beatings and isolations never had. "Oh, Ron, how could you have grown in three months?" she asked incredulously. He was now actually noticeably taller than Mum, while the twins were the same height, and Harry was a few inches shorter. He was slightly embarrassed to see that, as Dean had pointed out a couple of weeks earlier, Ginny was now the same height as he was. She'd probably be taller than him in a month or so.

"Dunno, Mum," he shrugged, before he too was being thoroughly suffocated.

"Ron, honestly, you've got chocolate all around your mouth!" she reproved. She whipped a handkerchief out of somewhere, and started rubbing the debris off.

" _Mum!_ " Ron complained loudly, though the sound was heavily muffled.

"Hi, Dad," Harry said brightly.

"Hello, Harry. Did you have a good journey?" Dad asked.

Harry turned to look pointedly at Flint, who was still walking as if he'd just spent a day riding bareback, and then at Fred and George, who'd only just emerged from the train. "Yeah, it was pretty good, thanks," he replied.

Dad gave a covert nod, his lips twitching slightly at the sight of the Slytherin. "Is that the Flint kid who tried to knock you off your broom?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yup," Harry responded cheerfully. At that point, Flint glanced over. His eyes glittered malevolently as he saw Harry. Harry rubbed delicately at his lower back, smirking as the much larger boy turned away.

* * *

Harry never wanted to use the Floo network again. Ever.

Nothing in this world or the next could possibly be more humiliating...

He groaned, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and hoping he would pass out just to stop the laughing.

"Now boys, that's no way to behave. You weren't so great on your first Floo jumps, now, were you?"

That shut Fred and George up pretty quickly. Harry cracked his eyes open slowly, allowing himself to see the trunk with which he had collided. As his vision unscrewed itself, something else came into view. Ginny's head. He squinted at the trunk — it was Ginny's. She must have been sitting on it. His vision came back into focus, and the first thing he noticed was the war between sympathy and amusement on his girlfriend's face. He dropped onto his back with a thud.

"Sorry," he muttered.

The fire flared. "What on earth happened here?" Mum asked. Reluctantly, Harry opened his eyes again, and saw Ron's grinning face above him.

Suddenly, he was being pulled to his feet. "Honestly, mate, that's the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen," Ron laughed.

"Cheers, Ron," Harry replied with only a touch of sarcasm, "I feel loads better now."

"I don't think your face agrees with you," Ginny smiled.

"Aw, Ginny, you're meant to be on my side," Harry laughed. "I... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied brightly. "You didn't look too good, though."

He offered her a little grin. "Long as I never have to Floo-travel again, I'm good."

"Don't worry, Harry, I'm sure you'll get plenty of practice," she assured him. He groaned again, and started dragging his trunk up the stairs after the others. In doing so, he almost missed the Clock. As promised, his animated face was there, pointing at 'Home'. He beamed at Mum and Dad, who smiled back, and Harry felt a wonderful sense of fulfilment... Until he realised that Ginny, who was following him, was getting away with levitating her trunk in front of her. She only giggled at his protests, and he hurried upstairs before she decided to start 'encouraging' him.

* * *

"Harry! Ginny! Ron! Time to come inside!" Mum called from the back door. They'd been weeding the garden in and around the vegetable patch, for the most part at least. Ginny made the task fairly quick and painless by incinerating the weeds as they saw them, root and shoot, so they'd generally just allowed the day to drift away from them.

Harry could smell dinner before they even reached the door. When they did, Ron's stomach rumbled thunderously. Ginny wrinkled her nose at him, before laughing and running off to the bathroom.

"Why doesn't she just use magic?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Habit?"

"It's not even like she got her hands dirty though," Ron pressed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Like we did," Harry laughed. "Next time we de-gnome the garden I'm going to dare her to send them all flying to Hogwarts."

Ron sniggered. "Yeah, and set them all on Malfoy."

"We..."

They were interrupted by a pop-hiss sort of sound coming from the living room. Curious, they peered inside; they were cautious though, considering the risk of being the unwitting targets of one of the twins' experiments. A funny, dull whine accompanied the hissing now. Harry frowned. He knew that sound. It didn't make sense though, for there was no electricity at the Burrow. Electricity or no electricity, the television was definitely producing light and sound. The VCR was also on, with little blue lights shining in the display. Harry rushed to tune the TV, not caring how nonsensical it was.

"Dad?" Ron called. "You want to see this."

"What is it, Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked. "My word."

The remote was even working without batteries. Harry soon had BBC1 up, showing the news.

"Guys, I'm done in the..." They turned to look at Ginny, who was staring at the TV. "Hey, why are you looking at me? It wasn't me!"

Harry reached behind the TV and waved the unconnected power lead around. It sparked brightly, making Harry throw it down instinctively. A tiny wisp of smoke rose from the singed carpet.

"Well, it isn't muggle tech that's making this work," he said. "That's completely insane."

"It's fantastic!" Mr. Weasley said. "To think, no access to potions or enchantments, and they still make moving, talking pictures. It doesn't really respond to you, does it? Still, someone is actually sitting on that chair talking right now..."

 _'_ _Well, he's remembered the stuff I told him,'_ Harry thought. _'How do magic pictures work? How is this damn television on?'_

It wasn't long before everyone was gathered in the living room. Mr. Weasley fiddled with the aerial, marvelling at how the picture distorted and faded behind noise.

"We can all look at it _after_ dinner," Mrs Weasley said firmly.

Harry thought there might be dissent for a moment. It was a very short moment though.

When everyone had run upstairs to wash their hands, it quickly became clear that dinner would be a sprint event. The twins obviously decided to add to the chaos, 'accidentally' trapping the end of the serving spoon under the lip of the pot of rice, so that gravy was thrown everywhere when the next person reached hurriedly for it. That person was Ginny, and Percy got flicked right in the face.

"Boys!" Mrs Weasley cried.

"Wasn't us!" they protested.

"Don't try it," she warned. "One more and you'll both be straight up to your room. Hold still now, Percy dear. _Scourgify_. There you are."

"Thank you, mother," said Percy. One of the twins made a face behind him.

Harry was distracted from his own food for a while as he watched Ron. His friend seemed to be having a huge internal struggle, glancing between the serving bowls and the living room. The decision was made for him as one by one the Weasley family finished their own meals. When Dad thanked Mum for the meal and put his plate in the sink, he triggered an exodus. The next was Ginny, and Percy brought up the rear. Mum seemed to give it up as a lost cause; she enchanted the dishes to wash themselves and followed them all into the living room.

"Okay!" said Fred.

"Where do we start?" asked George.

"Choose a movie, I suppose," said Harry.

"They're all here," said Percy, indicating the bags they'd left next to the television. He pulled them out one by one and started stacking them. "The Great Escape, The Jungle Book, Star Wars, err, three Star Wars movies, The Terminator, Back to the Future... three of those as well. E.T. the Extra Terrestrial, The Karate Kid, Edward Scissorhands, Home Alone and Who Framed Roger Rabbit."

"I think that's all of them," Ginny said. "They don't all sound very Hermione."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, Terminator..."

"I like the sound of that," Fred grinned.

"Dean might have added some," Ron said. "I heard him and Hermione talking about it."

"There are too many for a vote to work," Dad said. "Let's do this in alphabetical order."

The twins groaned. "But..."

"The holiday is long enough for us to see all of them," Mrs Weasley smiled.

"Sweet," said George.

"This should be educational," Percy said eagerly.

"Not sure that's the point, Perce," said Ginny.

"Percy, you realise not everything in that movie is real, right?" said Harry.

"Of course," he replied, sounding vaguely insulted. "I only mean that I have never seen one before."

Harry slotted the cassette into the machine, which whirred as the tape disappeared inside. "I'm just making sure."

"Wait, how much is real?" Ron asked.

"The story is fabricated, but if the people look real then they probably are," said Percy matter-of-factly.

"Everybody sit down then," Mrs Weasley said.

Harry offered the remotes to Dad, but he refused them. "You'd better take care of it, Harry," Dad said. "At least for now. You'll have to show me how to use them later."

He sat between Ron and Ginny on the sofa. Energy surged through him as he lifted the remote, and then they were all bathed in light. "Play," he muttered.

* * *

"So _that's_ a movie," Ron murmured.

"Fascinating," Percy muttered. "I think I might have to ask Professor Golding how they work..."

"Don't bother," Ginny replied. "I'm pretty sure it'll be in my muggle encyclopaedia."

"You mean you haven't reached 't' yet?" Harry asked incredulously. She gave him a punch in the chest for that one.

"Thank you, Ginny," Percy replied. She flashed him one of her brilliant smiles, but he was still staring at the television set.

"So Dad..." said one of the twins.

"Can our car do that?" the other finished.

"Car?" Mum asked.

"Yeah, there's a muggle car..."

"Sitting in the shed."

"Oh no," Dad laughed. "That isn't leaving the shed, let alone 1992. I'm taking it apart." Harry got the funny feeling that he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"And why wasn't I told about this car, Arthur?" Mum asked.

"Molly, you've never much cared for these muggle things," Dad said agreeably. "I only wanted to learn how it works."

"I know a bit about that," Harry said. "I did a bit of work on Uncle Vernon's old car."

It hadn't been much, to be fair. Uncle Vernon was convinced that Harry would somehow sabotage it. But he wasn't the sort of man to turn up a chance at free labour either.

"Wonderful!" Dad enthused. "You can show me what you know tomorrow."

"Alright," Mum said. "Bed now, all of you."

No one protested.

* * *

Harry grinned as he woke. It was Sunday, and while this day held no particular significance for him, he felt almost deliriously happy. Ginny was clearly still asleep, and having a very good dream. For several months now they'd been able to feel it when the other experienced a particularly powerful emotion in the waking world, but when one of them was asleep, these broadcasted feelings were somehow made far more intense.

He jumped out of bed, feeling as if he had the energy of two people rather than one. Throwing open the curtains, he saw that it was still quite early. The sun had barely risen, and the birds were singing. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Hedwig!" he said. His owl was perched on the back of his chair, and let out a soft call at the sound of his voice. "Good hunt last night?"

She hooted in reply, flapping over to land on his shoulder. He grinned and stroked her wing contentedly. Her beautiful white feathers shone a bright gold colour in the morning sun. Giving him a gentle nip on the ear, she flew lazily over to her cage, where she tucked her head under her wing to sleep.

After changing into light clothing when he realised that the weather was being friendly for once, Harry raced downstairs, barely able to keep quiet. When he reached the kitchen, he found Mum already awake and aware.

"Good morning, dear," she said warmly. "You're up early."

"Good morning," he beamed. "It's such a wonderful day."

"Yes - not a cloud in the sky is there?" Mum agreed, peering out of the window.

"Mind if I help?" he asked. He had to admit he was a little lost here. The eggs were beating themselves quite vigorously; the bacon had just flipped itself over; there were more eggs frying in a pan; Mrs Weasley seemed able to produce melted butter, water and anything else that wasn't solid straight from her wand.

She smiled at him, sighing, "You're such a sweet boy." He felt himself blush, and she laughed softly. "Well, go on ahead and set the table, then."

Just then there was a muffled 'crack' outside, which Harry recognised as someone Apparating in. "Morning, Molly," Dad said as he came in. "Oh, good morning Harry — didn't expect anyone to be up this early on a Sunday."

He just shrugged in response, giving an easy grin. "Good morning, Dad."

"Busy night, Arthur?" Mum asked sympathetically.

"Not exceptional, but yes," he agreed. "It'll be easier on Monday."

"You'll be getting plenty of sleep before you head out again," she said sternly.

"Yes, Molly."

Harry suddenly felt his delirium fade, and the little jolt that always came when Ginny woke up.

"You can sit and eat, Harry," Molly remarked with amusement. "No-one's going to be down for quite a while yet."

"I... was going to wait for Ginny," he replied.

Mum and Dad looked up at him, both with funny little smiles on their faces. He was suddenly hit with a jolt of panic, and gritted his teeth, only to feel a rising tide of shame, excitement and yet more overwhelming anxiety.

"Harry, dear," Mum began. "Ginny never wakes up early. And on Sundays, I always end up having to get her up. Go on, Harry, just eat now."

Harry rubbed at his neck awkwardly, then sat down with a quick 'thanks' to Mum. After all, if he tried to argue, he'd have to give a reason why he knew Ginny was up. She wanted him to keep their link, or whatever it was, a secret, didn't she? He'd already finished a plate of bacon and eggs by the time he felt Ginny start down the stairs.

Concentrating hard to get the timing right, Harry stood and drew the chair next to his without looking to see where she was. Ginny looked up, blinked wearily at him, then half-collapsed into the chair.

"Good morning, Ginny," Mum and Dad addressed her, with notes of surprise clear in their voices. She merely mumbled a response.

 _ **'**_ _ **You okay, Ginny?'**_

 ** _'_** ** _I s'pose...'_** she mumbled.

 ** _'_** ** _You must have had a really good dream last night,'_** he said casually.

A blush rose from her neck. **_'How'd you... never mind. I... just, never mind.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _If you say so,'_** he smirked.

She glared at him. **_'You're bloody insufferable, you are,'_** she growled.

Harry blinked at her stupidly.

"Mum, can we talk, please?" Ginny said, her voice tight.

"Of course, dear," Mrs Weasley said, bewildered. Then a light seemed to turn on in her head, and she pulled her wand out. When Ginny passed Dad, Mum cast some kind of ward that prevented them from being heard, or even seen clearly.

Even after Harry was done eating, he sat waiting for the conversation to finish. Dad sighed and gave him a wry smile. _'Really would've liked to try that omelette...'_

Percy yawned widely, the stars on his pyjamas orbiting wildly around him under his dressing gown. "Morning," he said lethargically. He was acknowledged with an equal lack of fervour. Catching sight of the two blurs by the sink, he grimaced.

Dad returned the sentiment, and Harry was left feeling rather left out, not to mention confused. He felt a burgeoning, irrational anger. Feeling a little alarmed, he tried to excuse himself. He needn't have worried, though. Ginny and Mum emerged from their little bubble a few seconds later and headed upstairs. They heard the bathroom door open and shut, whereupon Dad gave a sad little sigh.

Still feeling as if he was way out of the loop, he looked to Percy, who had already gone back to reading the paper. Rolling his eyes, he turned to Dad, who was gazing at the stairs with an odd look on his face. It was sad, and a little bit scared, and a whole load of other things that Harry couldn't even begin to decipher. Harry resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't find out for a long while, and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't know how Percy could be so oblivious to it, but there was a tension in the room so thick that it physically stifled Harry.

There was a noise on the stairs; Harry turned, expecting to see Ginny, but instead he found only the twins. They approached quietly, as if a baby was sleeping in the room.

"Hey, Dad, we saw Mum and Ginny..." George began.

"Is she... you know...?" Fred stammered out.

Dad nodded jerkily. "I think so," he replied.

"Um, George," said Harry meekly. "What's...?"

"Look, Harry," Fred began.

"You've started looking at girls a bit differently, right?" asked George.

"Feeling a bit different?"

"Changing here and there?" George gestured vaguely at him, but Harry got the picture.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. "It's only Ginny though."

"Sure?" George grinned.

"Katie's starting to show some nice curves," Fred said.

"Don't tell me you've never flown behind her to-"

"Boys," Dad said in a warning tone. He was smiling slightly though, and he went on more quietly, "Your mother can still hear you."

For his part, Harry was bright red with embarrassment. Of course he had noticed that there were other pretty girls at Hogwarts. It was impossible not to, but none could hold a candle to Ginny. Not that she had Angelina or Katie's distracting assets. It was because Harry could no longer imagine his life without her in it. A girl he had known for a few months had taken centre stage, and no matter what confusing feelings clouded his mind when Angelina finished dressing on her way out of the girls' changing rooms, nobody was threatening to change that.

"Sure I've noticed," Harry muttered. "It's Ginny I want, though."

"Well, you've got her mate," said Fred.

"What we mean is," George said.

"She's going through her own version," Fred finished.

Harry thought of the way Dean had looked at her, and something angry reared up inside him, along with a good deal of fear. He was pretty sure that Ginny liked him as much as he liked her. Still, she was very pretty and very popular. What if she found a guy she liked more?

"I know what you're thinking," Fred said.

"How is a scrawny, speccy little thing like you..."

"Going to keep Ginny's attention?"

Harry glared at the laughing twins. "Not so scrawny anymore, retards," he snarled. He didn't usually call people names. He left that to Ron, Dean and Seamus. The twins were hitting a nerve though.

"Ooh, look," Fred mocked. "Ickle Harry-kins wants a fight."

"Boys," Dad said sternly. "None of that, now."

It took a few seconds, but Harry relaxed.

"You don't need to worry, Harry."

"That's the point."

"She'd still like you if you were a midget."

"I mean, you were, at the start of the year."

Harry finally relaxed fully. He hadn't noticed that his fists were clenched. That was new as well. He definitely hadn't been a confrontational person before Hogwarts. He remembered when Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley, and he had met Draco Malfoy for the first time in Madam Malkin's clothes shop. Harry had thought the boy to be as foul, if not worse than Dudley; Draco had talked about bullying his father into buying him a new racing broom, been completely unconcerned about the death of Harry's parents and spoken with incredible disdain of the absent Hagrid. The prick hadn't known who Harry was, of course, and Harry hadn't cared to tell him. Even after all that though, Harry hadn't so much as raised his voice. Maybe all these changes were somehow connected.

"Anyway, one of the things she has to deal with..."

"Is a monthly visitor."

Harry knew he had a blank look on his face. "What? She's on Father Christmas's really really good list?"

Fred sniggered. "She wishes."

"You haven't noticed girls getting cranky every month or so?"

He had sure as hell noticed the extra-savage beatings Uncle Vernon gave him about that often, when Petunia started having a go at Vernon as well as Harry.

"What's that about then?" Harry asked.

It was Dad who explained it, and briefly at that. Harry was left feeling distinctly glad that he was born a boy.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"She's... she'll be fine," Dad replied with a small smile.

"I don't know why everyone's getting so worked up about all this," Percy interjected. "It's a perfectly natural process. There are countless girls her age who are perfectly fine, why would she be any different?"

Dad put a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Son, you'll have kids someday, and then you'll understand."

Percy shrugged and returned to the _Daily Prophet_.

"Who's in the bathroom for so long? I need to pee." They looked up to see Ron stumbling down the stairs.

Dad conjured a glass bottle. "Go to your room and do it in that. I'll clear it up."

Ron yawned, nodding gratefully as he took the bottle and went back the way he'd come. Harry slumped in his chair.

Maybe a minute later, Ron returned looking a bit more steady on his feet, with the bottle near-full with a slightly yellow liquid. Harry made a face at the substance, and the tips of Ron's ears turned bright red.

"Here, Ron — put that on the table, would you?" Dad asked. After Ron had complied, Dad pulled his wand. " _Evanesco. Tergeo. Evanesco._ Always clean the bottle first," Dad muttered, smiling at some private joke.

Ron and the twins had begun eating by the time they finally heard the bathroom door open again. Ginny was red as a tomato and didn't look particularly happy, but Harry didn't sense anything amiss. When he offered Ginny a grin, she seemed to blush even brighter, and the room itself began to feel a little too warm. Harry bit his lip and turned his attention to his pumpkin juice.

* * *

"Argh!" Harry hissed. ' _Bloody gnome!_ ' No sooner had he thought this than he felt the gnome prised off his finger. He looked up in surprise to see the gnome flying. Probably literally, since it didn't look to be losing altitude any time soon. He turned around to find Ginny grinning at him.

"Thought you could use a bit of help," she said.

"Ginny, did you throw that?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Yeah," she replied aggressively.

By this point, the gnomes were popping up all over the place, looking to see what the fuss was about. Grabbing his wand, Fred charged at them, yelling at the top of his voice. Everyone laughed at the reference, laughing still harder when the gnomes actually ran away from him. He gave every gnome he passed a hearty kick, sending them scattering.

"Oi, did that gnome come back down?" George muttered to Harry.

Harry stared off after the creature Ginny'd thrown. "Not a clue."

Fred, on the other hand, had reached the end of the road. About four metres from the hedgerow, all the gnomes turned on him. Still yelling, he ran back the way he'd come. Ginny was beside herself. The storm of little potato heads were charging him as fast as their stubby little legs could carry them.

"Rooaawwrrr!"

Harry looked up in amazement. George just grinned at him.

"Gotta love Zonko's!" Fred called.

Zonko's Joke Shop was their favourite destination on Hogsmeade weekends. George was waving his arms around and roaring loudly, though the gnomes seemed more curious than afraid.

When Fred finally reached them, there was a little swarm of gnomes on his tail. Ginny reached out with both of her hands, and her eyes narrowed to slits as she concentrated. Fred skidded to a halt in front of Ron, who had been grinning at him. The grin was fading though.

The gnomes were slowly floating upwards in the midst of a vaguely red haze. Ginny pulled her hands together and closer to her chest, and everyone watched, mesmerised, as the gnomes were drawn both closer to her and each other. She threw her hands outwards and upwards, her eyes snapping open to reveal that her normally warm brown eyes were glowing with the same vibrant orange-red hues of her hair.

"I... don't think we'll be seeing them again anytime soon," George muttered. They stared after the gnomes, who were soon out of sight over the hilltops.

"So, who was your favourite character then?" Ginny asked. They all looked at each other, and all spoke at once.

"Luke."

"Han."

"Leia."

"Kenobi."

"Vader."

They stared at Fred, who was staring at George.

"Kenobi? Come on!" Fred cried.

"He was cool!" George insisted.

"Cooler than Vader?" Fred asked disbelievingly. " _I find your lack of faith disturbing._ "

"Sure that was cool," said George. "But remember at the end when Vader was getting all excited about killing him? Kenobi was basically all just 'try me, bitch'."

"And then Vader killed him..."

"He let him, and he was still sort of alive."

"He's having a much harder time swinging that light sword."

"Fine," George said wearily. "I can see there'll be no convincing you."

Fred smirked at him; then he turned on Ron, whose ears turned bright red. Harry and Ginny paid no heed, lost in their own telepathic argument.

 ** _'_** ** _You fancy him.'_**

 _ **'**_ _ **Do not! He was funny, alright?'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Do too.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Ugh! You can be such a baby, Harry.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **I'm not being a baby!'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Really?'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **It's that dodgy grin.'**_

 _ **'**_ _ **Oh, for crying out loud! I do not fancy him!'**_

Harry turned to face her, drinking in the hot glow of her face, the fire in her eyes burning furiously through her narrowed eyelids, and the twitching of her lips as she just barely restrained herself from snarling at him. If there was one thing to say about Ginny, she had an incredibly hot temper. Though he was scratching the back of his neck out of anxiety over how hot her temper was going flare, he couldn't hold back a smirk. **_'You're really cute when you're mad.'_**

Ginny was clearly incensed, and the internal struggle when she realised that that was just giving Harry exactly what he wanted was only adding fuel to her fire.

"You know what, Fred?"

"What's that, George?"

"I think ickle Ronniekins here has a crush!"

"Maybe you're right, George!"

"But the real question..."

"... is who it's on!"

"What do you reckon, Harry...?" Fred blinked. He and George chuckled absently, trying to figure out how the conversation could in any way have inspired a reaction like _that_.

* * *

"Well, I guess you don't know everything about women yet."

Harry glanced at Ginny, who was keeping her eyes resolutely on the screen.

"Occasionally. When you're not acting like a scoundrel." "Scoundrel? Scoundrel. I like the sound of that." "I happen to like nice men." "I'm nice men." "No you're not, you're..."

Looking once more to Ginny, Harry noticed that she was still transfixed. Her expression was almost serene; a little half-smile was pulling at the corner of her mouth while an inexplicable orange light flickered in her eyes. Looking closer, he saw that the light was coming from the fibres in her irises, simultaneously making the glowing ones stand out, and silhouetting the others. The light wasn't static, but didn't swirl with the chaotic currents they usually did when he noticed her eyes glowing. Rather, the lights moved almost lazily from one fibre to another, as if reluctant to let go of their previous hosts.

He bit the inside of his lip and breathed out a sigh of defeat. The satisfied smirk on her lips was turned eerily dark by the glare from the TV set, making a stark contrast to the light dancing around her eyes.

"Sir! Sir! I've successfully located the reverse power flux coupling!"

The humour put him at ease, and he chuckled along with everyone else. Giving up all pretence, he put his arm around his girlfriend. She smiled an uncertain little smile, which he replied to with an imitation of Han's lopsided grin. Ginny let out a quiet snort, before snuggling in a little closer and returning her attention to the movie.

They watched in silence until...

"Sweet," George breathed.

"Even a Levitation Charm has its limits," Dad muttered in agreement.

"Nothing's impossible if you've got enough nerve," Ginny interjected, smirking at the twins, who grinned back appreciatively.

"I don't... I don't believe it..." "That is why you fail."

* * *

"We have to find some way to thank Hermione," Harry muttered. She had provided him with a list of recommended movies when he told her he hadn't really seen any. Of course, they wouldn't get through her whole list this Easter.

Ginny grinned at him. "D'you reckon she's got a book list for us too?" she asked. He smirked at her, shaking his head. "What?" she asked indignantly.

"You and your books," he chuckled.

"You're such a hypocrite!" she cried.

"Hey! I didn't say it was a bad thing to like books, did I?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm not Ron!"

"Oi!" came Ron's muffled reply from within the bathroom.

"So what's your problem, then?" she pressed, poking Harry in the chest.

"What problem?" he grinned. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he only winked at her in response, making her blush.

"I hate you," she muttered. At that moment, Ron came out of the bathroom, and Ginny raced in before he even finished shutting the door.

"So, what was up with Vader's head?" Ron asked.

"Well, I don't think he wears that suit just to look cool," Harry answered sagely.

"Too true, Harry," Fred butted in.

"Reckon this muggle stuff is growing on me, Fred," George mused.

"Yeah," Fred agreed.

"Cheers, Harry!" they said together.

He sniggered at them. "You know, I genuinely didn't see that thing about Vader being Luke's dad coming..."

"No! That's impossible!" Fred shrieked.

"Boys? Is everything alright?" Mum called.

"Yes, Mum," Harry replied.

Ginny came upon her sniggering siblings and raised an eyebrow. "Fred, are you feeling okay?" Ginny asked with concern. "Only, that was a passable mimic!"

"She wounds me!" Fred cried, sinking to his knees and clutching at his twin's arm. "Look, see the blood boil where it falls!"

"Well, as long as you clean up after yourself," Ginny commented placidly.

Fred's eyes boggled, and he slid limp to the floor. When the laughter faded, he popped up again. "Bad mimicking my ar-"

"George Fabian Weasley!"

* * *

"Come on, Harry, what's taking you so long?"

Harry clenched his teeth and tried to ignore her laughing at him. He knew he wasn't a slow climber, she was just so damn used to climbing these trees she could do it with her eyes shut.

Feeling the muscles in his arms strain as if trying to pull away from the bones, he flipped himself up and onto the branch, sitting side-saddle to face Ginny. She was lying with her back against the trunk where the first bough split off from it, just above that little hollow where she had hidden her crate. It gave her plenty of wiggle room.

"Pass that, would you?" she asked as she calmed down.

Harry shimmied closer to the trunk, reaching around to pull the box out. It was just a little too big for the hollow, it turned out, which rendered it impossible to lose inside the tree. Pulling it out by the handle, Harry noted that it weighed almost nothing.

"What the...?" Harry exclaimed.

"Featherweight Charm," Ginny explained. "It comes standard on most wizard trunks and carry-cases. Nicked that one from the attic."

"And your parents never found out?" Harry asked.

Ginny just laughed. "If there's one thing we've got lots of, it's trunks. Bugger all to put in them, but we've got them."

"How's that?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. He knew Aunt Petunia had more suitcases than she really needed, but she filled each and every one of them every time the Dursleys went on holiday and then moaned endlessly about what she'd had to leave behind.

"One of my great uncles made them," Ginny explained. "Gilbert, I think. Or maybe it was Viritus. Anyway, it's my little treasure chest now."

Popping the lock, Harry found a model broomstick and a quaffle that had clearly seen better days on top of a load of books. Harry was about to start rooting through the books when Ginny gave a delicate cough. He could feel her anxiety.

"Like I said, _my_ treasure chest," she grinned. "Hand it over, Harry."

"Why, what's under the books?" he challenged, not digging through them any further but not moving to hand the box over either.

Ginny blushed brightly. "Never you mind. Give me my box."

"What if I want to know what's under there?" Harry grinned.

"Too bad, it's my box!" she shot back.

"Yeah..." Harry smirked. "But _I've_ got it."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. Quick as a flash, her arm darted out to grab it. Harry dodged. He would've felt good about it too, if he hadn't dodged while sitting on a tree branch. Ginny seemed to notice, from her horrified expression. Harry was just trying to figure out how best to lock his legs around the branch when he realised that he wasn't falling. Ginny's eyes were burning, and her hands were outstretched, as if hanging onto him by his collar.

"Merlin's balls," she gasped.

"His _what_?" Harry asked.

Ginny snorted. "Don't make me laugh, Harry, I'll drop you."

"Hey, you said it, not me," he pointed out. "Can you help me back up? I can't move with whatever you're doing."

Slowly but surely, Harry returned to a comfortable sitting position.

"So what would you do if a muggle turned up here?" Harry asked, putting his back firmly against the tree trunk and handing Ginny her box.

"They can't," Ginny shrugged. "There's wards on the Burrow so you can't find it unless you're trying to get there. A bit like the third floor corridor."

"We got there easy enough," said Harry.

"We're sorcerers," Ginny said flatly. "We were desperate to get away from Filch, so we were probably fighting the wards."

"Still, those wards were supposed to be protecting the Philosopher's Stone," Harry continued. "If a bunch of kids could just wander through them..."

"They do seem a bit pathetic..." Ginny allowed. "But why would the professors make it weak? False sense of security?"

"Ready to hit them with Fluffy," Harry laughed.

"A dark wizard would just use the Killing Curse," Ginny frowned. "Only dragons have enough magic resistance to deflect an AK."

"They what?" Harry gaped.

"It's no help to wizards," Ginny said sadly. "No one tames a dragon, and the scales lose a lot of their strength when the dragon dies, so dragonhide armour is no use either."

Harry stared unseeingly across the woodland area. In his mind, a great dragon came out of nowhere to consume a shadow that was creeping through the dark. He shook his head. _'Stupid dream.'_

"I'm sorry," Ginny said gently. "I didn't mean to..."

"Doesn't matter," Harry frowned. "Besides, if Fluffy is basically useless, then that thing is in a lot of trouble."

"Maybe the room is booby trapped," Ginny suggested. "Some stuff could come flying out of the walls or the floor to block his spells. And he couldn't use AK, anyway, it would set off alarms at the Ministry."

"They know when someone uses it?"

Ginny looked at him, and there must have been something in his eyes because her already grave expression turned mournful. "Nothing could be done, Harry, there was no time," she whispered. "The Department of Mysteries has these sensors buried secretly all over the country that show them where magic is being done, and if any illegal curses are being used. It tells them where the magic is being done pretty clearly... Harry, I'm so sorry but... by the time a team of aurors was ready, it would've all been over."

Harry shook his head. "No, I... If the room's booby trapped, he could just open the door from the other side of the corridor and cast spells from there. The dog can't get out, and he can deal with the traps without getting hurt."

Ginny looked at him for a while, and he turned away to look down at the stream. He didn't need sympathy.

"Yeah, but I'm sure the professors have done _something_ to make it hard for people to get through," said Ginny.

"Yeah, I've known about magic for half a year," Harry smiled. "I'm not exactly the best person to criticise their work."

"No," Ginny agreed. "But Bill is."

"Bill isn't here," Harry pointed out.

"Which totally sucks," Ginny complained. "Dad knows a little bit about wards, but if we tell him about this he'll want to talk to Dumbledore and Mum about it, and Mum'll pull us all out of Hogwarts until the Stone's gone."

"You really think so?" said Harry.

"You've seen how much she worries," Ginny sighed. "The troll was just a one-off thing, but she'd have pulled us out for sure if she knew we went after it. The Stone is just gonna bring trouble as long as it's there."

They sat there in quiet contemplation for a while. It was clear that there was going to be trouble at Hogwarts this year. He could feel it in his scar. The damn thing was beginning to burn while he was at school, and nothing he did ever eased the pain.

"Here," Ginny said, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Huh?" Ginny was holding a book out to him.

"The reason I got you to pull this out," Ginny said, indicating the box, "was so I could give you this."

The book wasn't nearly as big as Lord of the Rings, but it didn't look like something he could read over a weekend. It was _The Darkness Within_ , written by Noveria Dryden. Harry barely even noticed this, however, as the illustration on the front cover appeared to be animated in a similar way to a magical portrait, or a chocolate frog card.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Ginny grinned.

The man was barely even recognisable as a human being. His skin looked more like stone, cracked deeply and silhouetted by fiery lava that churned and roiled beneath it. Two massive horns protruded from the top corners of his forehead, curving back on themselves to end above and behind him. He still had human-looking hair, long and black and blowing in the wind. But his lower jaw seemed unnaturally long, and his mouth was full of fire, as were his eyes... eyes that were staring right at Harry.

He blinked, and stared back. The demon grinned, revealing rows of sharp fangs in place of teeth, before extending huge, bat-like wings and flying back, away from him. This allowed Harry to see his hands, or claws, as the demon faced off against an unseen foe.

The demon was wearing half of a plate armour suit, covering his shoulders, groin, the fronts of his thighs, his lower legs and his feet. Still, he looked harder than the steel that was on him, no matter how oversized the armour was. His feet must have been absolutely monstrous considering the size of his boots, which seemed as long as the shin plate.

That was when he roared. Fire exploded from his face with such force that Harry would have expected tower blocks to fall. There weren't any, though, in the arid, desolate backdrop. There was only another demon, even larger than the first. This one wore no armour, but Harry doubted that he needed it. His skin looked twice as thick, and he was built like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Unlike the first demon, he had no hair, and his entire body was wreathed in flames so dense it was like he was clothed in them.

The first demon whipped his tail out. Harry hadn't noticed it before, and supposed it must have been coiled up against his back. Harry thought the newcomer was going to lose an eye, but at the last second he reached out a massive, clawed hand and snatched the tail out of the air, yanking the smaller demon towards him. He didn't predict the sword that appeared out of nowhere in the smaller one's hands, and ended up helping to drive the blade through a gap in his blackened hide, right up to the hilt.

The bigger demon coughed, sending a fireball over the other's head. He grimaced and drove the sword higher, turning the blade against one of the chest plates. However, the impaled demon was only angered, roaring at his opponent and grabbing him by the horns. Harry was sure that the smaller guy was going to lose his head, but then the sword pulsed. It was like something was fired down its length, something blue and ethereal. Whatever it was, it propelled the other demon away as if it had been shot out of a cannon, and the book itself shook a second later as the defeated beast presumably hit the ground. From the look on the first demon's face, his assailant was not getting up. He threw his head back and roared, the sword gleaming in his hand before evaporating into thin air.

Harry looked up at Ginny. " _What_?"

She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. "Want to borrow it?"

"Where'd you get it?" Harry asked. He couldn't imagine Mrs Weasley giving Ginny a book like this.

"It was a birthday present from Bill," she said. "He disguised it as a kid's book, and he's so good with wards that Mum didn't even realise there was a spell on it."

A thought burst to the front of his mind, distracting him entirely. "Hey, I never asked. When's your birthday?"

"Eleventh August," she smiled. "Why? Do you know what you're going to get me already?"

"Yeah," he griped, "some patience."

"Hey, I don't have time to be patient," Ginny said obstinately.

"But you have time to dawdle in trees talking to me about your birthday?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Ginny retorted. "I fit in the other stuff around the dawdling."

"Right."

Ginny smirked at him. "Anyway, you'd better finish that in the next few days, because there's no way that it's leaving here."

Harry flicked to the back page. "You expect me to finish three hundred and ninety pages in three days?"

"I could do it in one day, no problem," she said nonchalantly. "You're not up to it?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll do it."

"Great," she beamed. "Come on up here."

Harry passed her the book before carefully standing up on the branch. Leaning against the tree's thick trunk, he tensed his knees and sprung up to join her. The bough was so large that he could stand comfortably on it and still have room to move.

Sitting against an upward-growing branch, he put his hand out for the book, but she shook her head, smirking at him. Harry frowned, confused. Ginny didn't say a word. Rather, she raised a hand and made a 'come hither' motion, and patted the bough beside her.

"There's no room," Harry said.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, getting up and pushing him down where she'd been sitting, before sitting firmly in his lap.

"Oh."

"Read to me?"

"Haven't you finished this already?"

"Twice," Ginny admitted. "But I want you to read it to me."

Harry fiddled with the book, trying to find a way to read it, before realising what Ginny's game was and putting his arms around her, and his head over her shoulder. She sighed and snuggled back into him, and Harry felt his cheeks light on fire.

"Please stop moving?"

"Wh... Oh."

Harry flipped it open, and found that it was quite new — 1989. It may well have been Ginny's last birthday present from Bill, before he left for Egypt.

"The Darkness Within, by Noveria Dryden," Harry said in the most grandiose voice he could muster. "Brought to you by Potter Productions, 1992."

Ginny snorted, and he found himself grinning too.

"Chapter One. The World I Used To Know.

"A great muggle war leader once said, 'If you are going to go through hell, keep going'. As I stared down from the top of Lancashire Magical Academy's North Tower, I found myself wondering whether Winston Churchill had ever looked into that churning, fiery pit. And yet, in the dying light of this chilly autumn evening, with the stench of death drifting to me on the breeze, I knew that there was no turning back."


	14. 14 - The Art of Revenge

"So, how was your holiday?"

Harry barely heard Neville. He could feel Ginny's fury, and almost smiled in spite of himself. She could solve any of her problems with a healthy dose of anger. Harry personally just felt frustrated. The Slytherins were getting smarter, it was true. They didn't come to bother the Gryffindors on the train this time. They sent slightly less obvious barbs, and only when there was no chance of retaliation. For instance, on the way into the Great Hall, Malfoy had loudly warned Daphne Greengrass about playing host to parasites. Ginny later told Harry that Daphne lived in Kent, near another family of Weasleys including Dad's brother.

Then again, Carina Rayne had given Ginny a delightful gesture on the boat journey across the lake which involved pumping her hand over her open mouth. Fay had laughed and said that Carina was reminding them how her family got wealthy. At least the incest comments were dying down.

"Harry? You okay?" Neville asked softly.

"I... it's not me I'm worrying about, Nev," Harry replied.

"Oh. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. She's Ginny."

"She's human, and their bullshit is getting on all our nerves," Harry replied.

Neville seemed to take note of the curse, because he didn't say anything for a while. "It's more than that, Harry. It's the media attention and the Mirror and the Stone," Neville said softly. "The troll and the cerberus and wondering what new hell we're going to face tomorrow. We aren't having a normal year at Hogwarts, Harry. Face it, if it was just the Slytherins it would just be standard Gryffindor-Slytherin stuff."

Harry sighed. "You're right, Neville. Doesn't make it easier, though."

"Hey," Neville smiled uncertainly, "that's what makes it fun, right?"

The others stumbled in, not having left early like he and Neville. Ron fell through the curtains of his four-poster, and was snoring at once.

"Bloody lightweight!" Seamus called.

"Bed?" Dean asked casually.

"Yeah," Seamus replied. Dean shook his head, sniggering.

Harry grinned at Neville, his spirits finally picking up. "Don't worry, some day you'll look back and be glad you nearly died."

"That's the insanity I'm used to," Neville said, pulling his curtains shut.

Harry waited until he was sure that everyone was asleep before crawling out of bed. Unsure of what exactly Ginny had planned, he borrowed Dean's winter coat, having left his own at home. He didn't know if the castle could detect Gryffindor robes, but on the off chance they were headed to another house's quarters... Quiet as a whisper, he fixed his curtains and slipped out onto the cold, spiral staircase. He could feel Ginny downstairs waiting for him.

The cloak was thrown over him as soon as he was off the bottom step. "Hey," Ginny murmured, leaning up to give him a quick kiss.

"You going to tell me why you ran off with the cloak?" Harry asked.

"Why?" Ginny giggled. "Don't you trust me?"

"Less every day," Harry grinned. "Let's get out of here."

Ginny led them through the mirror she'd discovered in her first week, which hid a secret passage to the infirmary. The passage allowed them to avoid all the patrols on the seventh floor. When they came out of that passage, Ginny walked across the hallway to a plain bit of wall that she stroked gently while humming a certain note. The very stone seemed to shiver, and she walked them right through it.

Harry stopped them in the dark passage. "How did you find all these passages, Ginny?" It was not the first time the question had occurred to him, but it was the first time he'd voiced it. She seemed to violate the laws of time. She was friendly with at least half the year, read as much as a Ravenclaw (Hermione would always have a league to herself) and still spent most of their free time hanging out with him, Ron, Neville and Hermione.

She smirked at him. Somehow he could still make out Ginny's facial expression in the darkness. Feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss her, Harry made good on it, pushing Ginny slowly back against the rough-hewn stone wall. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him closer, and he threw Dean's coat to the side in his enthusiasm to get it out of the way. A faint smell of flowers tickled at his nose, and Harry could no longer think past what he was feeling. His body was reacting in ways that were not his own. It was satisfying though, feeling her pinned between him and the wall - a rock and a hard place. It felt empowering to hear her whimper when his lips moved from hers to kiss at her ear, her neck...

 _'_ _What came over me?'_ He stopped, resting his head against the wall but still holding her tightly. Her breath in his ear was still keeping him from thinking straight, but he'd recovered some semblance of control. _'When am I ever this...?'_

Then it didn't matter, because Ginny was feathering kisses on his neck and he forgot why he wanted to slow down. When she pulled on his ear with her teeth, he gave up and returned to her lips. Her skin burned beneath his touch as he trailed a hand down her neck to the small of her back, leaving her shivering. She melted closer to him, her foot gliding up the back of his leg and pulling him in. Her lips caught on his, rough after minutes, hours, some length of time locked together, as she slid down to take his bottom lip between hers, pulling gently and biting with the same maddening, enticing slowness.

He managed to pull away again, to look at her. She was breathing as hard as he was, her eyes almost closed but gazing at him with some kind of desperation. She was flushed totally in that way only she could manage. He was starting to feel desperate himself, although for what he wasn't sure. All Harry knew was that he wanted more.

When they stumbled out of a door-pretending-to-be-a-wall-pretending-to-be-a-door, they were so distracted they nearly ran into Percy's seventh year counterparts.

"Hey," Ginny whispered. "Why did you drag us away so soon?"

"Soon?" Harry snickered. "We would've been in there all night!"

"Exactly," she replied, smirking.

Harry shook his head, laughing softly. "You're insatiable."

"Oh, has Hermione been teaching you long words?" Ginny asked innocently.

He forced her hands behind her back and pushed her against the wall. When she finally opened her eyes, realising she'd failed to goad him, she turned to pouting at him with the lips he'd defiled. "You didn't answer my question," Harry grinned.

"What?" she asked.

"The secret passageways," said Harry. "How did you find them?"

"The portraits," Ginny said. "I just ask them about it. They usually help, but sometimes they ask me riddles and stuff first."

Harry leaned down, watching the smile on her face. Her eyes closed and she seemed to relax utterly, and he kissed her right on the tip of her nose. He took a moment to enjoy the way her face flushed and scrunched up. "So, where are we going?"

"Slytherin common room," Ginny grumbled.

Harry stared at her.

"What?" she asked hotly.

"Ginny, you're amazing," said Harry, "I wouldn't doubt you normally, but that's insane."

"Because Fred and George haven't done it yet?" Ginny asked. "Because no Gryffindor has in recent memory?"

"Well, when you put it that way it sounds very tempting," Harry admitted.

"Come on, then," she smiled. "Let's go make trouble."

As it was, they were on the fourth floor. There was a portrait of a very powerfully built man in shining steel armour about fifty metres further down which brought them to a sort of secret passage crossroads.

"I swear I made marks here to show which passage goes where," Ginny protested.

" _Lumos_ ," Harry incanted. His wand lighting charm was one of the stronger ones in the year, and the only one to produce blue light; everyone else's was yellow. He raised his wand, spreading a wide cone of light through the tunnels and staircases to look for clues.

Not to be outdone, Ginny summoned bright white light from both hands. Harry couldn't even see her hands anymore — the light was far too intense. The entire area around them was bathed in it such that it seemed like the midday sun was shining indoors. Undaunted by the power of the light, Harry knelt to look closer at her hands. Once he got close enough, he could see through the glare, and found that her hands were shimmering in what seemed to be a cold, blue-white fire.

"That's Hermione's Bluebell Flames Charm!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione had discovered this charm in the early winter in an attempt to keep them warm. Of course, Ginny had her own solutions, but she wasn't always around. The bluebell flames didn't burn like normal fire. They were deep purple, and were only as hot as the caster wanted them to be. It was quite difficult to set something else on fire with them, though. _Incendio_ was the spell of choice for that.

"Mm-hmm," Ginny agreed. "You like it?"

"Do I like it?" Harry gaped. "Can you focus the light?"

Ginny grimaced, throwing her hands forward and closing them slightly. The light was now only directed in front of her, but it was hardly a narrow beam. "It's not like the _lumos_ light," she said. "It's just a fire."

"How about your whole body?" Harry grinned.

"But Harry, what if my clothes burn?" Ginny laughed.

"I'll put you out," Harry assured her.

She planted her feet at shoulder width apart, and put her arms slightly out to her sides. The fire grew. It was slow at first, crawling tenuously up her wrists, but once they were that far it was only seconds until her arms were ablaze.

"That is awesome," Harry praised.

Ginny grinned at him, doing a little dance so that her arms trailed fire in ribbons through the air. Then she assumed the same position as before, this time bending her knees slightly and closing her eyes. The seconds drifted by and became minutes, but Harry barely noticed. The fires had a strange, entrancing quality to them. Far slower than before, the flames began to extend over her shoulders, growling quietly. They were getting bigger too. Harry had barely noticed it when they were only covering her arms, but the flames were moving in rolling waves over her, so tall that the ones on her shoulders reached her eyes when they flicked just the right way.

A flame flicked suddenly in front of her eye, and something strange happened. Her eye glowed back. It wasn't just a reflection — it actually glowed, and not in the blue colour of the flames, either. It was the orange-red that Harry associated with her, bright and angry. She must have felt it too, because a smirk was tugging at her lips.

The blue flames were licking at her neck now, and stretched down under her armpits to near her waist. But the glow in her eyes resolved itself into flames of their own, and in a bright flash, the blue fire turned orange-red, taking over her whole body. Ginny gasped, but didn't show any sign of discomfort. Her clothes still weren't burning either, so Harry didn't do anything but watch as the inferno walked towards him.

She reached out and touched his cheek, and he felt her warm, soft skin on his without flinching. "I always knew I was going out with the hottest girl at school," Harry joked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. "This is pretty damn tiring."

"Wait," Harry urged.

He ran his hand through her flaming hair. Somehow, it seemed to take on a life of its own in the flames, and his fingers tingled to touch it. The movements of the flames sometimes carried her hair with them, or repulsed it, causing all of it to ripple chaotically.

He kissed her gently, slowly. It felt different, but he couldn't really describe it. Everything was a little more intense. He could place her smell. The flowers were from a field behind the Burrow, past the pond. The fire blazed brighter, and he could feel her heart thudding gently, quickly, as she pressed close to him. He pulled away slowly, knowing they'd never get anything done if they kept doing this, but wondering if that was really such a bad thing. The fires dimmed when he let go of her, and quickly died away to nothing. He reached out and grabbed her again before she could fall.

"Mm, tired," she moaned softly.

"Sorry," Harry said guiltily. "Hey, I know what'll perk you up."

"What?"

"Let's go find a use for these," Harry grinned, pulling a handful of stink pellets out of his pocket.

Ginny blinked. A slow, shifty smile spread across her face. "Where'd you get those?"

"I borrowed them from Fred and George," said Harry.

"Right," Ginny laughed. "Borrowed."

"They'll appreciate it, I'm sure," Harry defended. "Besides, I put a few Knuts in one of their pockets to pay for them."

"Come on," Ginny said.

"You still haven't explained how we're going to get into their common room," Harry pointed out.

Ginny gave him a look that told him quite clearly that he was an idiot. "Where do you think I went with the cloak? I ran to the bathroom, put in on and followed the Slytherins. Even got their password — it's 'aeternae hereditatis'. That's eternal legacy in Latin, I think."

"Nice work," Harry enthused. Ginny blushed by way of her reply.

They chose a passage at random, having decided that the castle was just going to guard its secrets here, and ended up in the Entrance Hall. The vast chamber was incredibly intimidating at night. The moonlight was filtered red, yellow, blue and green by the enormous stained glass windows over the intermediate landing. Four huge hourglasses stood in recesses on that same side. To the left of the central stair were the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff hourglasses, filled with rubies and citrine quartz. To the right were the Ravenclaw and Slytherin hourglasses, containing sapphires and emeralds respectively. Each gem in the bottom represented a house point, and Gryffindor seemed to be tied with Slytherin, no doubt as a result of Snape's ridiculous favouritism.

The two young Gryffindors stood now in the light of their patron's lion.

"Good omen, huh?" Ginny said.

"We don't need one," Harry smiled.

They decided against taking the shortcut to the dungeons to the left of the marble stairs, and instead took those stairs up and around to the first floor corridor, doubling back to reach the Grand Staircase. It was called that for a good reason. The staircase was a complex network reaching from the dungeon level all the way up to the seventh floor. But this was Hogwarts, so it wasn't quite as simple as that. The whole staircase was moving. A near constant rotation of stairs meant that you had to stay on your toes or risk walking off into thin air. Harry occasionally heard nasty stories of people falling four floors and cracking their skulls on stone banisters. You didn't come here with enemies around you.

They hurried down, unnoticed by the hundreds of sleeping portraits. Ginny surprised him by stopping on the ground floor rather than continuing the route to Potions class. She hushed him and dragged him along corridor after corridor deeper into the castle. After two or three minutes, she stopped behind a statue of a bishop chess piece. Harry knew these formed a trail to the transfiguration courtyard, but now Ginny was examining the base very closely. She let out a pleased sort of noise before putting her heel on it and pushing. The statue slid forwards, making a nasty grinding noise that had them quickly jumping through the hole it left behind.

 ** _'_** ** _There's a portrait in the way if we go from the potions corridor,'_** Ginny explained telepathically, clearly recognising the need for absolute stealth in enemy territory. **_'Some medieval cow.'_**

Harry sniggered. ** _'I'm sure that was an interesting conversation.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Call it that,'_** said Ginny. **_'Left here, and hello Slytherins!'_**

It was a bare bit of wall.

"Aeternae hereditatis," Ginny said sharply. A perfectly concealed door slid open to admit them.

 _'_ _Too easy, surely,'_ Harry thought. _'Neither of us is wearing anything Gryffindor, so unless the castle is watching us...'_

They walked through, and found themselves in a long, downward sloping corridor made entirely of obsidian, lit by magical overhead lights. The green lights gave the dark glass corridor a cold, internal glow effect that set Harry on edge. It opened quickly onto a large room, presumably their common room. It was filled with dark green sofas and armchairs; the walls were all the same dark obsidian, and at the far end was a large fireplace with an ornate silver mantelpiece. Harry found it amusing that even fire wasn't allowed to be red and gold here. The fire was an unearthly pale green that seemed to trap his eyes. The room was further lit by ornate chandeliers producing the same green light as from the corridor; daytime lighting would presumably come from the vast windows — in an underground dungeon.

Ginny pointed as a shape flitted past one of the windows. **_'We're under the lake!'_** she gasped.

 ** _'_** ** _So what do you reckon?'_** Harry asked.

 ** _'_** ** _I reckon they're pretty vulnerable here,'_** Ginny murmured, reaching out to feel the glass. Harry's eyes bugged at her implications. Still, he could tell that it was incredibly thick, even before considering magical protections. There wasn't much chance of someone actually drowning the Slytherins in their sleep. No matter how foul they were, he felt glad about that.

 ** _'_** ** _That's more than a bit too far, Ginny,'_** Harry warned.

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. **_'You thought I was suggesting it?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Not really, just wanted to be clear,'_** he replied. He was secretly glad though. Ginny could be pretty vindictive sometimes. **_'Besides, I reckon this stuff is pretty strong.'_** He nearly tapped the window, but she seized his wrist.

 ** _'_** ** _I didn't really touch it, Harry,'_** she said. **_'I can feel craploads of charms on this. One of them could be an alarm.'_**

He pulled his arm back quickly. **_'Right. So, what's the plan?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Until ten minutes ago,'_** Ginny said, looking at the silver clock above the fireplace, **_'there wasn't one. Now though... stink pellets, please.'_**

He allowed her to take charge for a while, curious to see what she'd come up with. She gave him half of the stink pellets back.

 ** _'_** ** _I'm curious, you see,'_** she said. **_'I want to know what happens if someone swallows one of these.'_**

Harry considered what he knew about them. Stink pellets were a fairly subtle prank device, dissolving into whatever they were thrown at and producing more and more smell over time. If they were used intelligently, no one would know the pellets were responsible, and it would be presumed that the victim just hadn't washed in a while. **_'Have the twins tried?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _If they have, they haven't told me about it,'_** Ginny replied. **_'Probably highly dangerous.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I'm guessing you're going up to the girls' dorms, huh?'_** Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. That left him the guys. He didn't fancy getting close enough to any of them to do as Ginny planned to. Nine stink pellets were sitting in his pocket. If they had a small bathroom for each year like the Gryffindors, it wouldn't be enough to properly attack all of them. He wanted a bit more than mild irritation. Still, he did have a secret weapon. He'd taken a look at the second year Charms textbook, and planned to give Malfoy something to wake up to.

 ** _'_** ** _I think the girls' staircase is the one on the right,'_** she told him.

 ** _'_** ** _Why?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _The carpet is scuffed pretty badly on the left staircase,'_** Ginny replied. **_'Guys are going to be rougher than girls, right?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _You take the cloak.'_**

She hurried off again, and he headed for the left staircase. He winced when his foot touched the first step but he didn't set off any alarms. Ten steps later, he almost fell foul of a trick step, one of the most elementary traps in Hogwarts. A few of the steps in Hogwarts were only illusions, and the illusions were so good that the only way to avoid putting your foot (and a leg, usually) right through them was to remember exactly where they were. Harry's trailblazing exercise nearly cost him his cover as his foot went halfway through before he could recover himself. There were no banisters for him to put his weight on, so he slowed down even further to test each step. This was fairly difficult considering he was going downstairs. The first dormitory he came across was the second year dorm. Harry silently cursed his luck, realising that the first year dorm was probably at the very bottom, and crept along the seemingly endless corridor step by painful step.

* * *

Ginny almost floated down the steps. Her desire to go unnoticed seemed to have resulted in a Featherweight Charm. Regardless of the cloak and the stealth charm, she kept her movements controlled. _'Why didn't he want the cloak?'_ Ginny wondered. He knew she could take care of herself. They had never had the need to split up before, not in the restricted section of the library, nor in the narrower secret passages near and in the clock tower. _'Unless he wants to prove something. To me? He doesn't need to. To Malfoy? He doesn't care enough. To himself...'_

In her distracted state she nearly walked into a wall. The dead end of the girls' staircase was obsidian like the rest, but polished so brilliantly that Ginny could see a reflection in it. Luckily, she did not see a hint of her own image.

Something moved.

Ginny stared at the mirror-wall, not daring to breathe. Had someone noticed her following them to the dungeons? Had they heard her, and set a trap? Was there someone who could see through invisibility cloaks?

She stared and stared until her eyes started to ache, but she saw nothing. Giving it up as a trick of the light, she turned away from the mirror, but at the very moment she started to turn away the movement repeated itself. She dredged up all that she knew about Slytherin, while preparing to flee.

 _'_ _Slytherins are cunning and ruthless. They have the strongest association with the dark arts, though mainly through superstition and popular opinion. That's it! The core traits of a Slytherin mean people don't trust them, so they can't trust anyone else... A Slytherin is always looking over their shoulder. There's nothing there.'_

The reflection did not appear this time. She had passed the test. _'Surely though, that means the mirror knows I'm not a Slytherin..._ _He valued cunning. Maybe I've earned some respect for getting in here.'_

Finally letting go her panic, she headed towards the first year dormitory. There was still a light on inside. Ginny pushed the door carefully inwards, holding her breath to listen for the slightest creak, but none came.

Tracey Davis was sleeping with open curtains and a candle burning on her bedside table. Ginny hadn't realised the quiet little girl was afraid of the dark. It couldn't be easy living down here if you were faint of heart. Perhaps that was why she hung around with Daphne so much. In appearance, the two were nearly opposites. Daphne was fair, blue-eyed and willowy. Tracey, on the other hand, was small and carried a little extra weight, had slightly brown skin that spoke of her mixed parentage, and had eyes and hair like the night. Ginny guessed at the bed to the left of Tracey, and found Daphne sleeping peacefully. Getting the pleasantries out of the way early, she tucked a small piece of parchment into Daphne's hand. On it was a drawing of a chimaera. It was the solution to the first riddle they'd solved together, and hopefully would serve as a nice little cryptic clue that Ginny Weasley was here.

The next bed she opened revealed Pansy Parkinson. Ginny grinned maliciously at her target, assuming a casting pose and picturing exactly what she wanted to inflict on Malfoy's little pet.

 _'_ _This'll teach her,'_ she thought, thinking back to those first few weeks after Yule. She didn't say such things in front of the boys - she was smart enough for that, apparently. But no matter how much Hermione told her it was meaningless and pathetic, it lit a fire inside her when Pansy suggested that Ginny's dating her brother had any bearing on her relationship with her blood siblings.

Her skin turned a violent, familiar shade of green. Ginny thought it a beautiful colour in Harry's eyes, but in this sharp, jagged line on Pansy's forehead it felt wrong. When she was finished, Ginny had the powerful urge to undo it, but she knew it would cause Pansy more strife this way than anything she could do directly. Or not.

Opening the girl's trunk, Ginny pulled out all her underclothes and set them into a neat pile, before restoring everything as it had been.

Millicent Bulstrode was her next victim. The beefy girl was more of a follower than anything else, so for the sake of variety, Ginny stole her wand to hide elsewhere.

The third would have no such luck. Ginny pinched Carina's nose gently so that her mouth opened. Retrieving a few stink pellets, Ginny popped them in. The pink-purple pellets visibly darkened in her mouth as they started to dissolve.

"Suck on that, bitch," Ginny hissed.

A couple of seconds later, Carina swallowed the things down. Ginny carefully restored all the curtains and levitated the pile of Pansy's drawers, corsets and petticoats to the bathroom. Closing the door, she began to hum softly to herself as she burned them all, dumping the ashes down the shower drains.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling incredibly happy, and knew that Ginny must still be in dreamland. It was only six o'clock, after all; even four hours of sleep was enough for him. The others in his dorm were all still snoring. He debated the virtues of sneaking back to the Slytherin dorms in his invisibility cloak to hear the sweet music of Malfoy waking up to a bed full of magically engorged insects, but decided against it. It wouldn't do to get caught, or even to be out of Gryffindor Tower. Who would normally imagine that a first year could sneak into another House's quarters?

As it was, Harry just lay in bed, reading. It would never supersede Quidditch as his hobby of choice, but after Lord of the Rings and The Darkness Within, he was ready to give novels a chance. He'd lost sleep to finish that damned book before the holidays ended. At least they'd run out of movies. Mrs Weasley had flat-out refused to let them watch The Terminator, throwing a fit the moment the woman said 'contains scenes of a sexual nature'. Harry got the feeling the twins had predicted that and watched it already, though.

Today's book of choice was not a fiction, however. Determined that Snape's hatred of him should not force him to retake first year potions, he had borrowed Hermione's copy of the textbook, along with a Muggle chemistry textbook. It seemed that she had spent the year making connections between things she had somehow managed to learn under Snape's tutelage, and things she already knew about chemistry. Her textbook was full of pieces of parchment, paperclipped in, which detailed how certain reagents reacted exothermically with this or that substance and so on. She had even begun to draw up reactivity series for magical ingredients. He didn't know how that would be useful if he wasn't trying to invent his own potions, though. The thing that really caught his interest was Hermione's translation of the introduction and explanatory passages into Muggle terminology.

School textbook or not, Arsenius Jigger's Basic Drafts and Potions either hadn't been written for kids or it was for children of another time, because apart from Ginny and Susan Bones, no one he knew could make hide nor hair of it. He supposed it was Snape's way of making sure he got his money's worth out of each class. If he knew most of the class was clueless, he could have more _fun_ with them.

After half an hour of flipping through the chemistry textbook, Harry was able to conclude that Hermione was secretly sixteen years old and had already done her GCSEs. He hadn't heard of half of the things that were mentioned in her book, and while it did a decent job of explaining the different types of intermolecular bonds and how they affected something's physical state, he felt hopelessly inundated by unfamiliar material.

Resisting the urge to just put the books down and go out for a bit of early morning flying, Harry flipped to the front of the chemistry textbook and started reading right from the foreword. He'd never been unintelligent. Schoolwork had never presented a challenge to him. What he'd found difficult was forcing himself to do a bad job in order to avoid Vernon Dursley's rage that he might be so insolent as to do better than his perfect Dudley - Dudley being a kid who just about passed the SATs. Now Harry was at a school of magic, learning about things that he had no foundational knowledge in whatsoever. And if Hermione was right about one thing, it was that he hadn't been taking his studies seriously enough. If he was truly making a fresh start, he needed to change that. Realising that he hadn't gotten lost in the introductory passages, Harry allowed himself a satisfied smile, and began to read about the different states of matter.

Early as it was, Harry expected to be able to finish at least one chapter in peace. The earliest riser tended to be Dean, who had a younger sister back at home to look after while his mother and elder sister went to work. He didn't talk about his father. So when Ron of all people yanked Harry's curtains open, Harry did a double-take.

"Seriously? Can you not knock or anything?" Harry laughed. "I thought you learned your lesson with Dean a few weeks back."

It had been at least five weeks since the event; Ron had stuck his head through Dean's curtains and come out looking like he was going to be violently sick. Even now, Ron made a face and averted his eyes.

"Come on mate, leave it out," Ron muttered. "Besides, this is almost as bad."

"Knowledge is a gift, Ronald," Harry grinned. "And we entrust our knowledge to books."

Ron rolled his eyes at him. "Come on, Hermione, let's go get something to eat. Fred and George said they did something to the Slytherin table, and I want to be there to see what happens."

Harry stopped dead. The thought that the twins might have been watching their backs hadn't occurred to him.

"What's up mate?" Ron asked. "You look a bit spooked."

"Oh, nothing," Harry lied as smoothly as he could. He didn't have as much practice as Ginny, but he had some confidence in his abilities. "Just noticed the spider on your shoulder, that's all."

"Ye- wait, what?!" Ron cried, throwing off his jumper and beating at his shoulder.

Harry covered his mouth to hide his laughter. It was cruel, but Ron's massive overreactions to spiders never disappointed.

"You bastard," Ron griped. "There wasn't a spider, was there?"

"What the hell is going on?" Seamus groaned.

"Ron was attacked," Dean said helpfully.

"Oh, good," Seamus grunted. There was a thud as he fell back onto his pillow.

"What's this about Fred and George?" Dean asked.

"And why couldn't it have waited another hour?" Neville yawned.

"Well, it's going to wait a while," Harry said firmly. "I'm not going to take the blame for whatever the twins have done."

"What's that, Harry?" Dean asked, pointing out the chemistry textbook in his hand. "You trying to do normal school at the same time?"

"No, Hermione reckons this'll help me understand Potions."

"Oh yeah, it does help a bit," Neville offered. Everyone turned to him, and he laughed nervously. "What? She lent me a book, guys..."

"That's what we were wondering about," Dean grinned. "What were you suggesting?"

Neville mumbled something under his breath, turning bright red.

"Anyway, I'm going to get back to this..." Harry said, waving the book at them. "Ron, do me a favour and wait it out?"

"Fine," Ron huffed. "Dean, you want a game?"

In their dorm, it was known by now that when Dean wanted a game, you were heading out into the muck to have a kick-about. When Harry wanted a game, it was probably tag. On broomsticks. When Ron wanted a game, it meant chess. Neville never actually used the phrase, and with Seamus's love of blowing things up, people tried not to join his 'games'.

"Sure, why not?" Dean replied.

By the time Harry had finished the first chapter, Ron had beaten Dean twice, Neville had gone to take a shower and Seamus had given up on trying to get back to sleep. He was just heading to the bathroom to relieve himself when he heard footsteps coming up the staircase. Leaning against the wall, Harry waited to see who was coming up here in the morning. The only thing above their dorm was an attic-like space which held what seemed to be a Gryffindor refuse pile through the ages. So either Parvati had finally tired of Fay's electronic music and had come to get rid of the specially tweaked wizarding wireless, or...

"Harry!" Ginny called, sprinting up the last few steps.

"Morning," he replied, before she smashed into his stomach. "Jesus, Ginny I'm going to the toilet."

"Oh, sorry," she winced. "Did you hear...?"

"Fred and George?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. "Well, go and do your business then, I just thought you should know."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry grinned, hurrying into the bathroom before Ginny could retaliate.

The Gryffindor first year bathrooms, like all the others, consisted of three toilets at the far end, and four showers, two on each side going down. Everything was nicely enclosed for privacy. Harry grinned when he noticed that, as per usual, no one had left their towel on the towel rack. It was far too easy of a target.

"Hey Harry," Neville said, a bright red towel wrapped around his waist. Water ran in rivulets down a much leaner form than had first walked in here seven months or so ago. He'd never been Dudley-fat. That was a level of obesity that was heading for the record books and an early grave. But now, Neville was only a little pudgy, and almost as tall as Ron.

"Mate, have you been working out?"

Neville blushed. "Yeah, kinda," he said quietly. "My grandmother reckons I should be 'fighting fit'."

"Cool," Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to stand in the way of that. Getting fit would probably help his confidence even more considering the hard time the Slytherins gave him for it. "But why now?"

"It started at Christmas," Neville explained. "My grandmother thinks that now that..."

"What?" asked Harry.

"She reckons it's important now that I'm hanging out with you," Neville rushed.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Neville turned an even deeper red.

"Oh God, you didn't tell her about Fluffy and everything?!" Harry exclaimed, fighting to keep his voice down lest he inadvertently advertise it.

Granted, he'd let it slip to Susan Bones, but he had that under control, and she didn't know that Ron, Neville and Hermione were involved, so at least their butts were out of the fire. If Mrs Longbottom found out then they were all kinds of screwed.

"No, I would never!" Neville shook his head violently. "She just thinks that since you're the Boy Who Lived and everything, all the big stuff will happen around you. She wants me to be prepared... to be a fighter, like my parents."

Neville didn't talk about his parents.

"Neville, I-"

"They were Aurors," Neville said, clenching his teeth. "And now they're gone. That's all you need to know."

"I'm sorry, Nev," Harry said softly.

"Don't worry about it," Neville replied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get mad..."

"It's fine," Harry urged. "Look, I'll catch up. Going to... you know."

"Oh, right. Sure, see you in a bit, Harry."

When Harry was done, Ginny was still waiting outside.

"Neville seemed a bit grim," she said.

"Yeah," Harry replied. **_'His parents got brought up.'_**

Ginny winced. **_'Dad said that Bellatrix Lestrange killed them.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Who?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Malfoy's aunt,'_** Ginny explained.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy's comment from the train ride at Christmas became crystal clear. **_'That little bastard.'_**

Ginny tugged him downstairs, presumably trying to distract him.

"Ginny, why do you insist on going up there all the time?" Hermione asked in a long-suffering voice.

"Hey, I don't spend all my time up there!" Ginny complained. "Go on, sing Magic for Harry."

"One time," Hermione griped. "That was one time."

Harry felt the weight of his anger leaving him. What was the point in getting angry with Malfoy anyway? It wasn't like he could actually do anything. He was just running his mouth off to feel better about himself because he knew that he couldn't match up.

"Oh, ho, ho, it's magic! You know..." Fay sang from the stairs, grinning madly. Her good mood was infectious, and Harry's mouth twitched into a smile.

"Never believe it's not so!" Ginny continued, pushing Hermione's shoulder.

"It's magic!" Harry added.

"You know..."

Harry barely even noticed Rionach was around most of the time. Fay was definitely the louder half of their team. Apparently, singing was something they had in common, for she did not opt to just shout her line as he and Ginny had done. Standing next to Fay now, she was a head taller, but her brown hair still fell lower than Fay's, which was cut above her shoulders. And they were all taller than Harry.

"Never believe it's not sooooo!" they chorused.

"Never been awa-ake," Hermione smiled reluctantly. "Never seen a day break."

"Leaning on my pillow in the morning..." People were filtering down the stairs now and deciding to join in.

"Lazy day in bed."

 ** _'_** ** _Why not,'_** Ginny grinned. **_'Free for all!'_**

"Music in my head! Crazy music playing in the morning light..."

It was a happy band of Gryffindors that made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, singing the odd marching song just for the heck of it, and because it annoyed the ever living piss out of Percy. The house point hourglasses showed that they were leading Slytherin by seven points, and as Percy led them into the Great Hall, Dumbledore was smiling down at them from the head table like some genial grandfather. Golden light streamed in through the huge clerestory windows to welcome them in, and the smell of bacon and eggs and sausages drove them on. Their house ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, floated in through the wall and bade them a good morning in his usual flamboyant fashion, continuing to drift along until he disappeared through the opposite wall.

The morning seemed absolutely perfect as Harry sat with his friends, tearing into an omelette. But it wasn't. It wasn't even close. He waved to classmates as they came in behind them. Susan offered him a grin in return, while Terry looked furtively up at Dumbledore before throwing a paper aeroplane. Ron gave Terry a thumbs-up and returned his attention to his eggs and bacon, leaving Harry to inspect the chocolate frog card affixed to the rear of the plane like a tail wing.

That was when the morning became perfect. Malfoy walked unsteadily in, followed as ever by Crabbe and Goyle. He looked deathly pale, and his eyes were slightly wide, staring around the hall as if imagining that the perpetrator would simply give himself up under his gaze. They were the last of the Slytherin boys to show up, and as yet none of the girls had arrived. Ginny snorted.

 ** _'_** ** _What did you do to him?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Let's just say that Ron inspired me,'_** Harry grinned.

Ginny scrunched up her face trying to figure it out, but by this point Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table. In the same place he always sat. Harry turned his head down at his plate, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Malfoy reached out to pick out whatever he was going to eat, but stopped. His expression went from anxious to frustrated as he started punching empty air. Harry watched, enraptured, as did a good portion of the student body as Malfoy got more and more worked up. Finally, Malfoy stepped back from the table, pulled his wand out, swished and flicked. At once, every bit of food on the table near to him picked itself up and threw itself at his face.

Malfoy stood there for a moment, absolutely still and silent. The rest of the students watched him, absolutely still and silent.

"My father will hear about this!" Malfoy yelled, as a bit of scrambled egg fell off his head.

He turned and stormed out of the hall, passed at the doors by Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. Malfoy turned to glare at them.

"You were in on this!" he spat. "Nothing happened to the two of you!"

"I swear to you, Draco, I wasn't involved in any way," Daphne said coldly. "You should probably go to the bathroom, you have..."

"I know what I have!" he said, still glaring daggers at the two of them. He turned to the Gryffindor table, but Harry pretended to strike up a conversation with Ginny. When he looked back, Malfoy was gone.

 _'_ _Now,'_ Harry thought. _'Now the morning is perfect.'_

Through all of this, neither Dumbledore nor any of the teachers present said a single word. Someone at the Hufflepuff table sniggered. A Gryffindor echoed them, and soon most of the hall was bursting at the seams. Fred and George were grinning at each other, presumably congratulating each other on a job well done. However, as Tracey and Daphne sat down, Dumbledore rose. And when Dumbledore rose, silence fell.

"Practical jokes are the butter to a childhood's bread," he said genially.

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. _'So help me God...'_ Harry imagined she was thinking. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from cracking up again.

"They give us entertainment when the drudgery of day to day life starts to weigh upon us, and can even help us to forge new friendships."

Then Dumbledore's expression turned grave.

"However, we must keep in mind that not all people have the fortitude to cope with situations we believe to be harmless fun."

Snape stalked in from behind the head table, and gave Harry a hard stare, as if he knew that Harry had sneaked into his House's dormitories last night. Dumbledore turned and gave Snape a nod, which the professor took as his cue to sit.

"While it may amuse some of you to see such misfortune laid at the feet of young Master Malfoy and his peers," Dumbledore continued, still addressing the doors at the far end of the hall, "know that the punishment for these offences is handed over to Professor Snape, should you be caught."

Harry had never seen a wider range of emotions on Professor Snape's face, and there was a sudden surge of hushed whispering. Snape's glee at being put in charge of penalties was so great that Harry couldn't bear to look at him, but oh boy did that turn around.

"What does he mean, _should you be caught_?" Hermione hissed.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't too sure himself. Was it a warning? Subtle sponsorship? Snape seemed to think so from his glowering outrage. Harry felt sorry for the sausages being subjected to that stare.

"You know what I think is funny?" Neville said, clearly still trying to control himself.

"What?" Ron asked.

"There were eleven teachers up there," Neville managed through stifled laughter. "And not one of them used a Cleaning Charm on him."

* * *

"Mr. Potter, get down from there!"

Harry grimaced at hearing Professor McGonagall's voice. He'd never actually read the school rules, but he was pretty sure that climbing the school buildings was discouraged.

Ginny didn't appear over the edge, presumably thinking McGonagall didn't know she was there.

"You as well, Miss Weasley," McGonagall added. "There's no use pretending."

Harry jumped down onto the tiled roof of the entrance courtyard's surrounding walkway, running and sliding in equal parts down to the edge. Letting himself fall as he went, Harry twisted and grabbed onto the edge, dropping gingerly for the remaining two metres to the ground.

"You look entirely too well practised, Potter," McGonagall said matter-of-factly. Ginny floated effortlessly down, her eyes aglow with the channelled magic. Much of the usual break time activity in the courtyard had now stopped as people watched the spectacle unfold.

"Practised, Professor?" Harry said blankly, playing for time.

"Yes, Potter," McGonagall replied. "That is indeed what I said. Congratulations. Now, I did not come here to reprimand or compliment you on your climbing. I received a letter from the Ministry this morning about a meeting between you and a Miss Laetitia Protcham this weekend."

Ron, Neville and Hermione, who had been usefully laughing at Harry and Ginny from the shade, started shooing away the curious onlookers.

"Yes, professor, she's from the..." Harry began.

"I know, Potter," McGonagall cut in, though there was an atypical softness in her expression. "The meeting will take place in a room near the Gryffindor common room. Percy Weasley will be taking you there at half past four on Saturday. Did you have any questions?"

"No, thank you, Professor," said Harry.

"Enjoy your morning break, Potter, Weasley," McGonagall said, turning on her heel and heading back into the castle.

"So..." Ginny drawled. "Does that mean she doesn't mind us being up there?"

"What's there?" Harry asked.

"Not much," Ginny frowned. "Kinda disappointing really, and you can see more from the astronomy tower anyway."

"Ah, well," Harry shrugged. "Hey Neville, I just thought of something."

"Yes?" Neville asked.

"Why don't you come work out with us down at Quidditch practice?" Harry offered.

"I don't know, Harry..." Neville grimaced. "You guys go pretty hard."

"You don't?" Harry grinned. There was no way that Neville could have brought about the changes he had just with a morning jog and a few pushups.

"Wait, work out?" Ron asked. "You mean you'd do that _voluntarily_?"

"What's wrong with that?" Neville frowned.

Ron shrugged. "That's all effort, Nev."

"He's clearly started already," Hermione huffed. "I'm sure he knows what's involved."

Neville reddened slightly.

"You're mad," Ron told Neville with absolute certainty.

Neville shrugged, turning back to Harry. "Have you even talked to Wood about it?"

Harry made a face. "Not really, but is he going to say no?"

"We don't know, Harry," Hermione said slowly. "That's why he wants you to ask."

"Yeah, s-" Harry began.

Their heads snapped up as one, as the school's giant bells sounded the end of break.

"Ah well," Ginny sighed. "See you guys!"

* * *

"Have you been spending a lot of time here?" Hermione asked.

She'd probably assumed he was going somewhere sensible to spend the latter half of lunchtime, like the library or the common room, and had left the Great Hall with him only to end up following him up to the trophy room. She should have known better.

They ran into a furious, panic-stricken Pansy Parkinson along the way, who'd screeched something about Carina and perverts. Harry didn't think he even wanted to know what had come of the stink pellet victim, but from the murderous look in Pansy's eyes, Ginny definitely would.

He grinned at Hermione, noting the twist of her mouth. Looking at Quidditch trophies didn't sound like her idea of a good time.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Turning his attention back to the trophy case, he knelt suddenly to look at the photographs stored a level below the silverware.

The common awards, such as the house cup, the Quidditch cup and the head boy and girl registers sat in islands in the middle of the trophy room. These islands featured a display case on top which protected the trophy or shield within, and windows lower down showed photos of the people involved. Special awards on the other hand rested in a continuous display case running along three walls of the room, with large, animated images of their recipients hanging on the walls above.

"That's your dad, isn't it?" Hermione asked softly.

He nodded. The bespectacled, messy haired young man kneeling in front in the picture was being patted on the head by a taller, long-haired boy. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team were chewing their lips and cheeks to hold back their laughter. After all, McGonagall was standing just to one side. It was a much younger McGonagall, with a lot of auburn still in her hair, and she seemed uncharacteristically happy. Suddenly, the messy haired boy grabbed the taller one's hand from mid-air, and pulled him to the ground over his shoulder. Just as suddenly, he froze, since the other had his wand trained on his crotch and was laughing heartily. McGonagall shook her head and _smiled_ as James Potter grinned and dragged his laughing adversary to his feet!

Suddenly the boy in the Keeper's position jumped about a foot in the air, his tracksuit bottoms aflame under his robes, which were somehow managing not to get burned. McGonagall was there immediately with a Water Charm to douse the flames. However, the flames disappeared of their own accord and without a trace, leaving the poor boy with only a sopping wet crotch from the good professor's timely charm.

As McGonagall berated James and his friend, Hermione noted that Harry's shoulders were shaking. She put her arm gingerly around his shoulders, but when he turned to face her, he saw that he was crying with laughter.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"They were geniuses!" he cried. "Getting McGonagall to do the work _for_ them?"

"I..." Hermione bit the corner of her lip in her dilemma. "I'll admit, it was clever, but the way they're applying that intelligence isn't so smart."

Harry looked up at her, a little frown on his face. "Everyone needs to let off steam, Hermione."

"Maybe so, but that was a dirty trick - trying to humiliate a respectable figure of authority like that," she replied, perhaps a little hotly. "Wait... what are you trying to imply?"

Harry's frown at once melted into a shifty smirk. "You, ah, remember that time when Seamus was getting help from Professor Flitwick in Charms for his dodgy casting, and the feather exploded while Flitwick was demonstrating?"

"You're joking?" she asked incredulously.

"Hey, Seamus blows stuff up all the time," Harry pointed out defensively. "Remember the time he was trying to turn water into rum, and he set fire to his own eyebrows?"

Hermione didn't look too impressed. "So, tell me Harry, just how far do these practical jokes of yours go?"

"Don't worry, we don't hurt anyone," he grinned.

"Ginny," Hermione asserted. Harry shrugged. _'What did she expect?'_ "What about Ron and Neville?"

At this, Harry began to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. "Well, we haven't really..."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I understand. You can't exactly pull Neville into a broom closet for a quick snog, can you?"

"Yeah, exactly. Wait, no! What?" Her composure cracked, and the trophy room echoed with her laughter.

* * *

"Brought a friend, Harry?" Wood asked, looking Neville up and down. Neville began to fidget with the hem of his robe.

"Yeah, Neville Longbottom," Harry replied. "He wanted to train with us."

"Can't speak for himself?" Wood asked wryly. Neville opened his mouth to retort, but the Quidditch captain raised his hand to stop him. "Look, I'm going to stop you right there. This isn't a social club. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but we can't afford to slow down right now. If you join, everyone will want to join, and then we'll never get anything done."

"I understand," Neville shrugged. "Hey, I'll see you later Harry, I'm going to go get my Potions done."

Harry sighed as Neville hurried back towards the castle.

"Sorry, Harry, but we really can't afford this," Wood said. "You're going to need to put some more muscle on before the next match if you don't want Greene to pulverize you."

Greene was Ravenclaw's Seeker, and was built unusually heavily for his role.

"Just tell me what I need to do," Harry said determinedly.

Training with the Gryffindor team was one of the most physically strenuous things Harry had ever done.

Harry had never even done a press-up before coming to Hogwarts, but he was now doing fifty in a set. Wood's regime was engaging muscles Harry hadn't realised he had.

"That's you done, Harry," Wood panted after their third lap of the Quidditch pitch.

Harry found himself getting vaguely irritated. If he was supposed to train up especially for this game, shouldn't he be training harder?

"I want eight sets," Wood ordered. "Twenty press-ups. One minute breaks."

The following half hour saw his awareness degenerate to the blood pounding in his ears, the persistent tickle of sweat as it rolled down past his eye, and the inescapable feeling that he was about to collapse. Wood wasn't going easy on him. He was trying a different angle of attack.

"Potter, I left a box over there," Wood said, breathing heavily as he indicated the stairs down to the Gryffindor changing rooms. "Pull out the tens and the twenties, we'll be with you in a minute."

Harry didn't have a clue what he meant, but he did as he was told. His teammates were sprinting to the other side of the pitch, and would soon be back with him. Concerned that they would beat him, he began to jog.

The box, it turned out, was full of weights. They were iron affairs, with white leather grips, and numbers scorched into their sides.

"Good job, team," Wood panted happily as they pulled in behind him. "Get your brooms and run through standard exercises. Angelina, you're in charge."

"Yes, captain," the tired, disgruntled players panted.

"Right, Harry," Wood grinned. "Let's put a bit of meat on your bones."

* * *

"Awwhhh," Harry groaned as he sank into the plush chair.

"Are you tired, Harry?" Miss Protcham laughed.

"Wood is absolutely mental," Harry breathed. There was a deep ache in every part of his body, and he clung to the water bottle his captain had pushed off on him like it was a lifeline. "My Quidditch captain. Training me up for the next match."

"I see," the woman smirked. "I remember Quidditch training sessions back when I was at school."

Harry coughed gently to clear the tickle in his throat. "What position did you play, Miss Protcham?"

"Oh, I never played," she grinned.

Percy cleared his own throat from over by the door, blushing brilliantly. "I'll, ah… be taking my leave of you then, ma'am."

"Okay then," she smiled. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Weasley."

"No trouble at all," Percy said, still bright red. "I'll be back in forty minutes."

"So Harry, how've you been?" Miss Protcham asked brightly.

They talked for ages, about everything from his Seeking to working at the Ministry to the state of his room. Harry almost let slip about his living conditions at Privet Drive when he mentioned how big his new room was, but it seemed that Miss Protcham already knew a little about how things were at the Dursleys. Perhaps the Weasleys had told her, or Professor Dumbledore. Either way, it seemed to be far too soon when a smart triple-knock on the door announced Percy's return. Miss Protcham ended up dragging him in and making him sit down too.

"What's it like being a prefect here?" Miss Protcham asked. "I went to the City of London Academy of Magic, but everybody always talked about Hogwarts."

"There's a magic school in London as well?" Harry asked, eyes wide with shock. It was impressive enough that they'd managed to hide Diagon Alley, but an entire school of magic? Surely there was the occasional kid accidentally blowing something up…

"Oh, yes," she smiled fondly. "We had to have Quidditch indoors. There was a massive underground stadium… But go on Percy."

"Well, it's obviously a hefty responsibility," Percy said. "There's only twenty-five of us on the team, and it's a very large castle…"

"It is at that," she said, tucking her long black hair behind her ear. "What kinds of things do you deal with?"

"Curfew patrols, break time monitoring, supervising detention..." Percy rattled off.

"Not to mention being an inspiration to all of us, Percy," Harry said sincerely. Miss Protcham stifled a giggle. Looking around warily, Percy stared at Harry. Harry, however, maintained his serious expression.

"Thank you, Harry," he said hesitantly. "The most challenging part of the job is what you aren't doing in an official capacity. Like motivating your fellow students to focus on their studies, and discourage them from disruption rather than punish them for it."

"Some do it better than others," Miss Protcham nodded. "Harry and I were just talking about your twin brothers, actually."

"Ah, yes," Percy winced. "They can be quite challenging."

"Indeed," she said, her bright blue eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. "I shouldn't take up any more of your time, I'm sure your friends are missing you, and you'll have plenty of homework..."

"Not at all," Harry insisted, scratching at the back of his neck. "I like talking to you, Miss Protcham."

"Please, Harry, call me Laetitia," she said. "Or Letty, everyone else does."

"Laetitia's a nice name," Harry shrugged, blushing.

"Thanks," she laughed, standing and gathering her things. "But really, I should be headed back. I'll come see you again in a few months, Harry."

"Okay," Harry frowned.

"Not going to hug me goodbye?" she smirked.

Harry felt his face burn.

"Isn't he adorable?" said Miss Protcham.

 _'_ _Bloody hell...'_ Harry held his tongue, remembering that regardless of how friendly and personable she was, she was still an adult and authority figure. Instead, he got up and embraced her. "It was nice to see you again, Laetitia."

"And you, Harry," she said. Then she took him by the shoulders and knelt in front of him, whispering, "Remember, I'm always here if you change your mind about those people."

An image flitted through his mind, of Uncle Vernon handcuffed and bent over the bonnet of his prized company car, while all the busybodies on the street looked eagerly out of their windows. The panicked shrieks of Aunt Petunia ruined it though. As did Dudley's face as he sat in the back of a police Vectra, the flashing blue lights dimly illuminating his seal-like features.

"Um... Thanks," said Harry.

"Just keep it in mind, okay?" she said, standing up and turning to Percy. "Well, then, Mr. Weasley, shall we go?"

Percy nodded and led her away. Only to be replaced by Professor McGonagall.

"I'm... glad that you've settled in with the Weasleys, Potter," she said, as though struggling with something. "They are good people. I know what those... what those people were like, at Privet Drive, but I had no idea that they were so abusive. I'm sorry that I didn't do more to look after your welfare, Potter. I owed your parents that much at the very least, regardless of anything else. If there is ever anything bothering you, I promise I will not fail you again. You have my word."

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared.


	15. 15 - Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

Back in the air at last. Half an hour on his broom had him in such a good mood that he felt he could fly without it.

He grinned over his shoulder at Ginny, who was sitting behind him with her arms stretched out in the wind. He went into a moderate dive, driving through a central hoop at cruising speed; she squealed but stubbornly refused to grab him or the broom. Beginning with a wide, lazy barrel roll, Harry put her through a rollercoaster of aerial tricks, finally ending on a vertical dive he pulled out of backwards, brushing his hair on the grass on the way out. As he flipped over, he looked back and saw that she was glowing slightly. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You cheated!" he accused.

"I wasn't aware of any rules," she replied serenely.

"Perhaps I'll have to _make_ you aware of them," said Harry, pulling up to a vertical climb.

There were a few others in the air, mainly those who were on Quidditch teams. The two Ravenclaw reserve chasers were throwing a Quaffle between them, and there was an aerial tag game going on around the hoops at one end.

"And how will you do that, Harry?" He smiled victoriously upon hearing a little strain in her voice.

He finally reached the altitude he desired, and pointed the broom to the earth, holding his speed so that Ginny slid forwards to rest on his back. Instead of answering, he dived. Ginny gasped, and he could feel her emotions leaking through - delirious excitement with just a hint of fear. Her fingertips grazed the sides of his robes, and he kicked his broom into a higher acceleration. She slid backwards, and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Like that," he grinned.

Harry relished her little growl of annoyance, and brought down the Nimbus in a gentle sideways drift that sent stones skidding out before them.

"Want to meet up with the others?" he asked.

"What?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Put down your Nimbus and go to the library? Did someone put something in your pumpkin juice this morning?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm not that bad!" he protested.

"Harry, I'm surprised you haven't given it a name yet."

"I'm gonna get you for that one," Harry threatened as they dismounted.

"When I least expect it?" Ginny asked casually.

He squinted at her for a couple of seconds. "Yeah."

They threw jibes at one another as they walked back to the castle, with Harry categorically refusing to ride back since he was apparently 'too attached to it already'. He appreciated for the first time just how expansive the grounds were at Hogwarts, and made that known when they reached the Entrance Hall.

"Out of shape, Harry?" Ginny laughed. "All that television not doing you any good? Maybe Neville ought to take your place on the team. He has lost a lot of weight after all."

Harry pinned her to the wall of the castle. "Really, now?" She wiggled her eyebrows cheekily, and Harry found his attention drawn to her glowing hand.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for inappropriate behaviour, and a further five for practising magic outside class, Miss Weasley," Snape snarled as he swooped past.

"Bloody greasy git!" Ginny fumed. She smacked her palm against the masonry, and sparks flew everywhere.

"Let's just go," Harry said before Ginny could start raving. Snape had, as always, left him with a very sour taste in his mouth.

When they reached the library, the first person they noticed was not Hermione, but Hagrid. Rather conspicuous in his moleskin overcoat, everyone was giving him a pretty wide berth.

"Hagrid!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Oh, ah, 'ello there you two," he replied uneasily.

Ginny's eyebrow rose in suspicion. "So, what brings you here? You aren't taking exams this year too, are you?"

Hagrid laughed nervously, sliding his hands slowly behind his back. "No, no, nothin' like tha'. Jus, yeh know..." Hagrid's eyes narrowed slightly. "Say, yeh aren' 'ere lookin up Flamel again, are yeh?"

Harry smiled, "Oh no, don't worry about it. We found out who he was long ago. Made us feel a bit stupid, really, finding out that he was on the back of the most common Chocolate Frog Card."

Ginny sighed dramatically. "I guess it wouldn't be a good idea to discuss such a big secret in such a public place..." she let the thought hang in the air.

It was certainly weighing on Hagrid, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. "I... Listen — come an' see me later. I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'posed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh..."

"See you later, Hagrid," Ginny called. Hagrid, however, was already shuffling away down the Charms corridor. She drifted over to the shelves where he'd been looking, and got a curious look on her face. "Dragons, huh?" she muttered. "Now isn't that funny? Didn't you say that he wanted one?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Can't say I blame him, really, now that I've seen them. Still, I don't think it'd be appreciated on the grounds, and he does live in a _wooden_ house."

Ginny snorted. "Hey, Su," she called as the Ravenclaw walked past.

"Oh, hey Ginny," she replied brightly. "You know, the latest in the Destiny Ascension series came in yesterday evening. I just took it out, but you can have it after me if you like."

"Thanks, that'd be great," Ginny beamed. "Promise not to spoil anything?"

"Would I?" Su Li asked, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "By the way, have you seen Hermione?"

"Sure, she's down by the Restricted Section with Neville and your brother."

"The Restricted Section...?" Ginny asked, bewildered.

"I don't have a clue," Su replied, adjusting the strap of her bag and raising her eyes to the ceiling. "I just saw them on the way down from Fiction."

"Well, thanks Su. See you around," said Ginny.

"Yeah. Bye, Ginny... Harry."

"Bye," replied a mystified Harry. He looked curiously at Ginny. "Are you friends with _everyone_ in the year?"

"Slytherins don't count, so near enough," she grinned.

"And why is it she barely spoke to me? She barely even looked at me!" he said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, there's a few girls like that aren't there?" she smirked. Harry could feel the pride rolling off of her in waves, and began to wish he hadn't asked.

They did indeed find the others by the Restricted Section. Hermione and Neville were each glued to their books, but Ron was distracted enough to notice them coming.

"Hey, guys," he called.

"Hey," said Harry. "What are you on now?"

"Uh, Devil's Snare?" Ron offered.

"Oh, Ron, you were meant to move onto Transfiguration ten minutes ago," Hermione sighed.

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not quite as sharp as you, Hermione," Ron fumed. "Maybe I need to work at a slightly slower pace? Did you think about that?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," Hermione hissed.

Ron's ears turned purple as he glared across the table. "Fine." He slammed his book shut, and slid it back into his bag.

"Ron..." Ginny tried to stop him, but he stormed off regardless.

"Ron, for crying out loud, she's just trying to help!" Harry called after him. He received a glare from Madam Pince for his efforts, but barely a hesitation from Ron.

"Leave it," Ginny suggested. "He just needs to let off some steam. He's got a bit of a short fuse."

Looking back to Hermione, he saw her biting her lip, but it wasn't out of any kind of mirth. "Don't worry about it, Hermione," he said gently.

"I'm not," she said, but the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her.

Harry bit his tongue and watched Ron shove his way through the double doors, to Madam Pince's further annoyance. ' _Maybe I ought to talk to him.'_

"You know, Hermione, Ron just isn't so keen to study all the time, or even most of the time," Ginny said slowly.

"But... the exams!" Hermione protested.

"I know, I know," Ginny replied, "but I don't think he particularly cares to get an Outstanding in everything, or even an Exceeds Expectations."

"Surely, your mum and dad...?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, yeah, Mum certainly encourages us to do well," she grinned. Harry would have to ask what particular occasion she was thinking of.

"So why doesn't he want to do well in his exams?" Hermione asked, looking completely baffled.

"I don't know, Hermione," Ginny replied. "Maybe he just doesn't want to work so hard?"

"Let's be honest," Neville interjected, "you two did just spend quite a bit of time over yonder doing what Ron probably dreams about nine out of ten nights."

Harry and Ginny looked incredulously at each other. He gave Neville a disturbed look. "You don't mean...?"

Neville turned red as a tomato. "I meant Quidditch," he whispered, burying his nose back into _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. Hermione sniggered 'subtly' behind her hand.

"Well, anyway," Harry muttered, clearing his throat. "What are you guys reading about?"

After an hour or so reading about and attempting to memorise the finer points of inanimate transfigurations, they finally called it a day, and decided to go and find Hagrid. They dropped by at the common room to see if Ron wanted to come, but he wasn't there, so they went along to see Hagrid without him.

"So he was looking at books on dragons?" Hermione mused.

"Maybe he has a friend who works with them?" Neville suggested nervously. They all knew what he was afraid of. He'd already told them that it was illegal to keep or breed dragons without a proper license, which was only given to specialist reserves, of which there were six in the world.

"Charlie asked after him while we were in Romania..." Harry offered. As they neared his hut, Harry noticed that all the curtains were drawn, and there was smoke curling up from the chimney despite the surprising warmness of the Spring afternoon. So it was with a sense of trepidation that he knocked on the door. ' _It's probably going to rain tomorrow as well,'_ he thought sorrowfully. He'd had just about enough wet and muddy Quidditch practices. He wore glasses after all!

"Who is it?" Hagrid called from inside.

"Um, it's us, Hagrid," Harry called back, feeling the dread pooling in his gut. Hagrid shut the door quickly behind them.

"Where's Ron?" he asked suddenly.

"No idea," Harry replied.

"He's a bit stressed," Ginny explained. Hermione's cheeks pinked slightly, but she didn't say anything.

"Got some stoat sandwiches I been makin'," Hagrid offered.

They politely declined, and he shuffled about a bit, stoking the blazing fire. Even Hagrid's own face was ruddy and sweaty from the heat.

"So..." Hagrid said at last. "Yeh wan'ed ter ask me summin'?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He didn't see any point in beating about the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. Tha' Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'pose yeh've worked that ou' an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

Ginny nudged Harry, and subtly indicated the fire. More specifically, he guessed, she meant the pot sitting above it.

 ** _'_** ** _Egg?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Must be,'_** she replied. **_'Charlie said dragons breathe on their eggs a lot, right?'_**

"Oh, come on, Hagrid…. You might not want to tell us, but you do know — you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. They beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... 'e borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout… Professor Flitwick… Professor McGonagall…" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell… an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Yeah – yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew that the others were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, 'Arry, sorry," Hagrid replied.

"Well, can we see the egg at least, then?" Ginny asked with a shifty smile.

"What egg?" Hagrid asked. He fooled no-one. Disregarding his protests, they gathered around the fire, and stared at the large black egg in the pot.

Ginny scrunched up her face in concentration, and Harry smiled involuntarily. "That's a... Ridgeback, right?" Ginny asked.

"Er, yeah, yeah it is..." Hagrid replied gruffly.

"How'd you get _that_ , Hagrid?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, as usual.

"Won i', as a ma'er o' fact," he said. "Jus' las' night, I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got inter a game o' cards with a stranger. Think 'e was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what'll you do with the dragon once it's hatched?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed with astonishment.

"Well, I bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in 'ere. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it 'atches, feed i' on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour." He looked rather pleased with himself, and completely oblivious to the despair on their faces.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house!" Hermione cried.

"You know, I think that's the least of your worries," Ginny remarked. "You can enchant all this wood to resist fire. But you'd need a big operation to expand it enough to properly contain a fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback. I mean, the moment Hagrid lets the thing out of the hut to fly, it'd be noticed by someone. So either he needs to ask Dumbledore to do the most extensive Undetectable Extension Charms since Lucy's wardrobe, or someone's going to file a report with the Ministry of Magic."

Only Hermione got the reference, it seemed, because she burst out laughing. Harry smirked. "I told you you're too fond of your books," he whispered in Ginny's ear. "Even I didn't get that one."

" _Even_ you?" she asked, smirking. "Not getting cocky at all? That was a Muggle book for your information." Harry frowned, trying to recall all the novels that Dudley had never been bothered with. He'd only spent a little while in that bedroom, after all, and hadn't had enough time to read more than part of _The Animals of Farthing Wood_.

They left half an hour later, having sufficiently troubled Hagrid to be sure that they'd be able to convince him to give the dragon up. Eventually.

Returning to the common room, they found Ron talking to Dean and Seamus. They seemed to have revived the football vs Quidditch argument. Harry threw himself over the back of the couch and landed heavily next to Ron, who jumped in surprise.

"Oh, hi Harry," he said guardedly.

Harry grinned. "You'll want to hear this one." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione move off elsewhere to sit with Neville.

Ron let Seamus continue without him, and turned to face Harry. "This isn't about Hermione, is it?"

"No," he frowned. "It's about Hagrid."

"But if you keep being a prat to Hermione, I might take issue," Ginny said as she dropped down on Harry's other side.

"What's happened with Hagrid?" Ron pressed, taking little notice of his sister.

Harry leaned in a bit. "If you'd stuck around, you'd have just seen a Norwegian Ridgeback."

"A Nowegian Ridgeback?!" Ron hissed. "Are you serious?"

"Be quiet, Ron," Harry whispered. "Yeah. It's still in the egg, but that's why Hagrid was in the library earlier."

"Hagrid was in the library?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it did look kinda strange," Harry sniggered. "But he was looking up on how to raise a dragon. He won the egg last night, and, well, he always wanted a dragon, so..."

"But Harry, that's illegal!" Ron groaned. "This won't end well."

"Not to mention he lives in a small wooden hut, and those things grow to, what, thirty or so feet long?"

"Those numbers don't count the tail, Harry," Ginny interjected.

Harry snapped his fingers. "That's why they all looked big!" He noticed the odd look Ginny was giving him. "Yeah, that's not really a good thing here, is it?" She shook her head slowly, still looking at him as if he'd just proclaimed his undying love for Neville's toad Trevor.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life?" Ron muttered.

Harry sighed. "Well, I'm going out exploring."

Ginny grinned. "There's only an hour till dinner!"

"Yes," he agreed, "but you can do a lot in an hour, as you very well know."

She gave him a shifty smile, then got up by propelling herself over the armrest. "So where do you want to go, Harry?"

"Hmm," he considered it briefly, "how about somewhere high?"

* * *

Morning break on the following Tuesday found Harry climbing a drainpipe in one of Hogwarts' several courtyards. He grinned at Ginny's attempt to keep up with him, and fairly hurled himself up and, finally, onto the roof of this part of the building. He leapt over a pile of debris, and rounded a corner to find himself in front of a gargoyle. Just then, Hedwig flew overhead, and Harry grabbed the dropped letter from the air.

"Sweet moves, kid," a croaky voice said.

Harry looked up. There was nobody there. He heard a quiet panting behind him and grinned.

"Oi, did no-one ever teach you any manners?" the same voice asked. "I just paid you a compliment. It's only common courtesy for you to thank me."

He stared incredulously at the gargoyle. "Ginny, are the gargoyles supposed to be able to t-" He swallowed his last word. There was something about Ginny all flushed that got a reaction out of him. He purposefully ignored it, biting his tongue.

"To what, Harry?"

Hedwig landed softly on his shoulder and nuzzled behind his ear. He grinned and stroked her wing with his free hand.

"To talk? Well, I can't speak on behalf of gargoyles in general... in fact, I can't remember the last time I saw anyone..."

"Oh, you poor thing," Ginny crooned, crouching next to the fiendish-looking sculpture and stroking the side of it's head.

"Kind of wish I was on the other side of this roof, too. From what I've heard, I'd have a great view from there..."

"Yeah, you would," Ginny agreed. "We'll see what we can do about having you moved, okay?"

The bell rang out over the school to signify the end of break, and they had to say their farewells to the gargoyle.

"Come back and see me anytime; I'll be waiting," it called after them.

Hedwig flew off as they walked back to the pipes, and glided down to where Hermione, Neville and Ron were waiting before flying off back to the owlery.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that one," Harry said as he slid down.

"Percy told me that a lot of the gargoyles here are sort of alive," Ginny called back. "It's only the ones that were put here soon after the castle was built though." They landed with a bump, and ran to get to their bags. To their surprise, everyone was still waiting for them.

"Well, just don't expect us to hang around too long if it's Potions," Ron jested. To the mild surprise of a couple of second year Gryffindors, Harry and company just casually walked up to a wall, stroked it in a particular place, and walked right through it.

Ginny turned to Harry to finish the history lesson, for they had come out right outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and only half the class had yet arrived. "The energy of the castle was so great then that bits of the personalities of the people who made the gargoyles were permanently embedded in them."

"You mean that Hogwarts is... fading in magical terms?" Hermione asked.

"No, it only faded for a while, because nothing could have sustained that kind of energy level," Ginny answered. "But the Founders gave of themselves to keep the castle alive."

"You mean like how the Sorting Hat was once Gryffindor's?" Hermione pressed.

Neville shook his head. "No. Well, you could say that was part of it, but... What Ginny is referring to is the legend that the Founders gave a part of their souls to Hogwarts when they died, and that their bodies were buried under the castle to keep that connection going strong."

Hermione stared at Neville, then Ginny, then at the floor. Harry covered his mouth to hide his grin.

"I reckon you pay too much attention to that stuff," Ron interrupted.

Hermione frowned. "The history of Hogwarts is important, Ron."

"Yeah, but you're talking about legends. You might get an idea, but you could easily be way off," he reasoned. Harry raised an eyebrow slightly. Ron wasn't an idiot, but he didn't usually engage in debate with Hermione. Well, unless their weekly bickering counted. "If you're gonna guess like that, you might as well say that the castle has a magical field because of all the students practising magic every day, and it might have once been stronger because the Founders were just really powerful."

"That's... a good point," Hermione stuttered.

"Did you think I couldn't make one, Hermione?" Ron asked curiously, but there was a smirk on his face.

Hermione blushed and muttered something unintelligible.

"W-w-well c-c-c-come in then, ch-chaps," Professor Quirrell called.

"So, Potter, have you moved them out of the pigsty yet?" someone hissed. There were a few chuckles, but they ignored them.

"Hey, Harry, are you going to read that note or not?" Ginny asked as they went in. She had a free period. His eyes widened as he remembered it, and he scrambled to get it out of his pocket.

 _It's hatching._

His eyes now wide for an entirely different reason, he whispered back, "Get to Hagrid's, Ginny!"

She squinted at him for a second, then nodded and sprinted off.

When he told the others, Ron wanted to skip Herbology and just head straight down to Hagrid's hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it, and, unsurprisingly, Neville was on her side.

"Hermione, think about it!" Ron protested. "How many times in our lives are we going to see a real live dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing."

"Shut up!" Harry and Neville both whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. His slightly raised brow told Harry all he needed to know.

"Jeez, can the two of you not stop arguing for ten seconds?!" Harry hissed once Draco had returned to his books.

Hermione glared at him. "I'd have thought you would appreciate-"

"I would've thought someone as smart as you would know when is and when isn't a good time to talk about these things!" Harry retorted.

She flushed, but acquiesced.

When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ginny materialised in front of them out of a mirror.

"It isn't quite ready to come out yet," she informed them. "But you can definitely hear it inside."

"This is so unfair," Harry groaned. There was unanimous agreement on that part.

"Well, see you at lunch then, Ginny," said Neville.

They parted ways, Ginny heading for the Headmaster's office entrance on the floor below, and they for the grounds.

Herbology was a tense affair. Harry and Ron stared almost continuously at the clock, and even Hermione and Neville had a bit of trouble maintaining their concentration. This being the one subject Neville had a real natural affinity for, he put as much effort into it as possible.

As soon as the bell went, they were grabbing their bags and sprinting across the grounds. They skidded to a halt at the front door, and Hagrid welcomed them in, Ginny arriving only a few seconds later. Hagrid was flushed with excitement, although the scorching heat in his hut might have had something to do with it too.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside. Harry, to Hagrid's surprise, ran to all the windows, shutting the curtains tightly and doing his best to secure them in place.

They huddled around the table. The egg was lying on its side in the middle of it, with deep cracks in it, the dragon clearly audible within. There was a little scorched patch on the table under it, and the wood was still smoking a little.

Suddenly, the clicking noises stopped, and they shielded their faces instinctively. There was a loud scraping noise, and the egg burst open. The baby dragon flopped out onto the table. It couldn't seem to stand, for its four legs kept scrabbling at the tabletop and it would just collapse back down again. Harry thought it lacked a lot of the grace and grandeur that the older dragons in Romania had displayed. In fact, it looked rather like a crumpled black umbrella. It appeared that flight was more important to a dragon's survival than fire, for its wings were already properly proportioned to its body, but that meant that its chest was small enough that Harry doubted it would produce much more than sparks. It encouraged that theory by sneezing, and throwing a few sparks out of its wide nostrils.

Hagrid sighed. "Isn't he beautiful?" he murmured. He extended a hand to stroke the dragon's head, and the Ridgeback responded by snapping at his fingers and baring his fangs.

"Bless 'im! Look, 'e knows 'is mummy!" Hagrid grinned.

They all looked at each other, faintly disturbed.

"Uh, Hagrid, have you mentioned the dragon to Professor Dumbledore?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, if Dumbledore gave his blessing..." Ron enthused.

"No, 'e..." Hagrid trailed off, paling.

"What, Hagrid, what is it?" Harry asked, scared of what the answer might be. He looked around at all the windows, and noticed one which had been disturbed. "Dammit!" he cried, running to the window. There was no mistaking that head of bleach-blond hair as Malfoy ran back to the castle. "Malfoy!"

Hagrid's expression became still more troubled. "Oh dear."

* * *

April turned into May, and Hagrid was still adamant that he would keep the dragon. Those seven days were rather detrimental to all of their moods, since Malfoy had something on _them_ for once. Harry supposed it was kind of funny that the one time Malfoy genuinely had one over on them, he wasn't saying a word. It didn't cheer him up one jot.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call 'im Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. You know, in _one_ week his wings are going to be smashing out your windows every time he decides to stretch. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

"And he won't even need to," Ginny continued, "because in a few days your hut is going to start bursting into flame, and the professors will all get suspicious regardless of whether or not he snitches."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I… I know I can' keep 'im forever, bu' I can' jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it too," Ron laughed. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No, he's right," Ginny exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Because clearly I'm the smart one," Harry answered facetiously.

She mock-glared at him, but her smile ruined it. "We can send Norbert to Charlie! He'll be pretty well looked after at the world's biggest dragon reserve!"

"That's brilliant!" Ron agreed. "So how about it, Hagrid?"

Hagrid, it turned out, had been quite fond of Charlie while he'd been at Hogwarts. It still took a bit more prodding, but he eventually agreed that they could send Charlie an owl to see if it could be done.

In the meantime, they decided to take turns helping Hagrid to look after Norbert, since they didn't want it to become too obvious that Hagrid was neglecting his duties in order to take care of an illegal dragon. That day, it was Harry and Ginny. The next day would be Ron and Neville, and Thursday would be Ginny and Hermione. Ginny had volunteered for double shift since she was probably best equipped to handle a dragon, what with her extraordinary powers and whatnot. In fact, Dumbledore had just begun coaching her in the practical use of her talents. Since McGonagall and Flitwick already had Transfiguration and Charms covered, Dumbledore was going to be tutoring her in Defence. Therefore, Harry was pretty confident in their safety as they stuck around to help feed and entertain Norbert.

However, in spite of his concerns, Harry ended up having rather a good time. Apart from having to dodge the wings whenever Norbert unfurled them, there wasn't really any trouble. Whenever Norbert snorted sparks or tried to bite, Ginny would just stretch her hands out and produce a silvery-white light shield, which deflected anything thrown at it. It became a bit of a game between the two of them, which only stopped when Norbert took one of his own reflected sparks in the eye and gave up.

The next day, he waited with Ginny and Hermione in the common room for Neville and Ron to return. They got back just before the eight o'clock curfew, and Ron groaned as he collapsed in an armchair, clutching his hand.

Hermione laid into him right away. "Why on earth didn't you wear your dragonhide gloves?"

Ron glared at her.

"He, er, did, Hermione," Neville answered for him. He held out a pair of heavily worn, dark green gloves, and Hermione gasped. One of them had a deep gash in it, with a couple of scales having been ripped right out, whereas the other had a hole stabbed right through it.

"Bloody hell!" Ginny cried.

"How old were they?" Hermione asked. "I heard that dragon scales lose their integrity after some time separated from the dragon."

"Old enough," Ron mumbled.

Harry stepped forwards and offered Ron his hand. "Ron, let's get you to the hospital wing." Ron didn't take it.

"What, has our-"

"Little brother hurt himself?" Fred and George asked curiously, popping up behind the sofa they were sitting on.

"None of your beeswax," Ron replied harshly.

"Hey, hey..." Fred put up his hands in surrender.

"Why all the hostility, Ronniekins?" George teased.

"Because the bloody thing bit me, that's why!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week! I tell you, that beast is the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me, he told _me_ off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

Neville finally broke, and began crying with mirth. Hermione snorted in a most un-Hermione-like way, and Harry and Ginny looked at each other, biting their lips to try and hold back the laughter.

"What bit you?" George asked.

"Is nobody gonna tell us anything?" said Fred.

"Oi, I'm in pain here!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

Just then, there was a tapping on the window. Harry glanced up. "Hedwig!"

"What?" Ginny stared disbelievingly at the owl. "Romania and back in a day?"

"That bird is beastly," Fred agreed.

"But will someone just fill in the gaps for us?" George pleaded.

"We're not usually this slow..." Fred began.

"...but I think we're missing a key bit of info here," George finished.

Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded, and returned to the twins, seeming to take pity on them. "I guess that maybe you two could help..."

"Yup, you know what we're good at," Fred grinned.

She rolled her eyes, and beckoned them closer. They leaned in dramatically, and Hermione seemed to have second thoughts before whispering, "Hagrid is keeping a baby Norwegian Ridgeback in his hut."

They stared at her, gobsmacked. "How did we miss this?" George asked Fred.

"We need to hang around this lot a bit more, bro," Fred replied sincerely.

"Too true," said George.

"Saturday night at the Astronomy Tower," Harry whispered. "Charlie's got a few friends who'll come and pick him up."

Ginny turned to the twins. "Perfect. We can scout for hiding places and secret passageways tonight seeing as we have Astronomy, and you two can keep Filch busy on Saturday."

"Would the dungeons be far enough for you?" George inquired.

At her nod, they grinned identically. "Sweet." They were about to turn and leave, presumably to find their partner-in-crime Lee Jordan, but then they remembered that Ron was supposed to be injured and decided to spend some quality time with their brother instead. Harry handed the letter to Ron, who snatched it away, and ran upstairs so that he wouldn't hear them laughing.

* * *

By the time they got to Astronomy, they'd found a grand total of two passages, only one of which would be big enough to allow Norbert through. Everyone else from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were waiting. Since they were assigned partners for Astronomy at the start of each term, it was the one subject that Harry and Ginny had together in which they didn't work together. Harry sat down next to Wayne Hopkins, his Hufflepuff partner, and flashed a grin.

Wayne looked at him curiously. "The last thing my mum said about you when she dropped me off at the station was to watch out, because if he's anything like his dad, he'll cause so much trouble that Filch'll start following him around by habit." Harry smirked and pulled his books from his bag. "That's three times since Christmas you lot have come in late. You're up to something."

Harry looked at Wayne. The guy was eyeing him curiously, a small smile playing at his lips. He took a leaf out of Ginny's book, and decided to forge a new friendship. "Well, let's just say that you'd be smart to not give Fred and George Weasley as much credit as they take," he grinned.

Wayne snorted. "Yeah, I'll do that," he said. "I'm guessing it helps when your girlfriend can make anything she wants just _happen_."

"Well, it doesn't work quite like that," Harry replied. "I mean, if she wanted Hogwarts to collapse, it wouldn't just happen. But if she wanted, say, someone's clothes to snag on a chair, she could just click her fingers."

"I heard about that one," Wayne chuckled.

"Yeah," Harry grinned. Ginny had used it on Parkinson on the way into Defence class. Pansy had given Gryffindor a glorious thirty second panic attack before Millicent Bulstrode wrestled her smock and robes free of the chair by force. "So it's become common knowledge then, has it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Well, at Hogwarts it has," Wayne amended. "I don't know how, but it still hasn't made the papers. I mean, the adoption thing was pretty much instant."

"I guess that's the difference between Hogwarts and the Ministry. In Hogwarts, everyone knows but no-one tells, and in the Ministry, everyone tells but nobody knows," Harry joked.

Wayne snorted and laughed, earning him a look from Professor Sinistra. She was a bit like McGonagall in that regard — she could silence anyone with the briefest glance. However, she was usually more lenient.

"You know, that thing's come up on the front page of the Daily Prophet three times?" Wayne asked. "My dad got so pissed he wrote a letter asking when they would print news and stop being your personal PR machine."

Harry held his nose to stop himself laughing. Professor Sinistra was alright, but he still didn't particularly want to risk her wrath. "Oh boy," he whispered. "Did he get a reply?"

"Nope," Wayne grinned. "They never even published it."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"But you know what was interesting?" he asked. "Dad showed me a little bit at the end of the article. Gringotts made a statement saying that in your parents' Last Will and Testament, your mum and dad asked that you be looked after by Sirius Black or Arthur and Molly Weasley."

Harry blinked. "Really? Who's Sirius Black?"

He looked at Harry strangely, but then stopped himself. "Well, Sirius Black was your dad's best friend," Wayne replied apologetically, "but get this, he betrayed your location to You-Know-Who."

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"The Ministry found him a couple of days later. One of your parents' other friends, Peter Pettigrew, found him first, though. The guy tried to duel Black, but Black used some sort of Blasting Curse to rip open the entire street. He killed Pettigrew and twelve Muggles with that curse," Wayne grimaced. "I don't know how you hadn't heard this story before. This, the Longbottoms, the Prewetts, the Boneses... Everyone knows these stories."

Harry's expression had gone ominously dark. "Yeah, well, I haven't been around wizards too long. He's in prison now, right?"

"Yeah, Azkaban. He's got life, obviously. Although he probably doesn't have his mind anymore by now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Azkaban's guarded by dementors, innit?" Wayne shrugged. "Soul-sucking, nightmare-making ghoul things? Nobody stays sane after ten years with them for company."

"Pity," Harry growled. Wayne raised an eyebrow. "I'll want him to know it when I crush the life out of him."

Wayne coughed. "Well, anyway, let's try and find Mars, eh?"

Harry ground his teeth, and stared out at the starry sky. He'd never thought himself capable of murder before. He'd never even considered doing in any of the Dursleys; he'd only thought of escaping. Perhaps it was something to do with this puberty crap. All his emotions seemed more _powerful_ , and more ready to jump to the fore than they had before. His parents' only surviving murderer was spending the rest of his days in a prison guarded by dementors. _'Good. Let him rot there.'_

* * *

On Thursday morning, Harry woke up to the sound of Ron moaning. This time, however, it was different. He was moaning in pain. He got up and knocked on the frame of Ron's bed.

"Are you okay in there, Ron?"

If he was honest, he wasn't completely sure if _he_ was okay. For the first time he could remember, he had dreamed last night. Not just the replaying vision of the flash of green light that he knew to be his parents' demise, either. He dreamed of a faceless man, taunting him over the death of his mum and dad. Every so often, the dream would flicker to more pleasant things, but the emotions behind the nightmare were too powerful to be overridden. He would pull his wand on the man, but the other would be too fast, hitting him with a curse of immense power. And then Ginny would be there, producing her amazing shield to reflect the curse back at the man. And the man would be blown to bits, disintegrating in the face of the blast. And Harry would laugh over the ashes. But then he would turn back to Ginny, and there was only pain and betrayal in her eyes. The shield was still up, and it reflected his image. His nose had melted down till he had only slits for nostrils, and his lips were almost non-existent in his pale, waxy skin. But worst of all were his eyes. They were just as they had been in the Mirror of Erised: a glowing, angry red.

"My hand," Ron groaned groggily. "I can barely move it. And it's full of pins and needles."

"Right, let's get you to the hospital wing. Right now," Harry stated. They hadn't wanted to before because of the possibility of Madam Pomfrey recognising a dragon bite, but if Ron lost his hand to some poison in Norbert's fangs then it would be out of their hands anyway. He got Neville up too, and they helped Ron to dress with his dead, swollen hand. Ron didn't seem capable of being more than half-awake, and whether that was because of the earliness of the hour or the poison evidently coursing through him, Harry didn't know.

The three of them trudged down to the common room, out through the portrait hole, through the portrait on the opposite wall of the seventh floor corridor, and into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey thankfully didn't ask any questions about how Ron had received his injury, and Harry and Neville soon left, telling Ron they'd be back to see him at break.

They didn't visit at lunchtime, and were mildly alarmed by the change in Ron between morning break and the end of lessons.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me. I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

They tried to calm Ron down, with limited success.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no, oh no — I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

They didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"We haven't got time to change the plan," Harry stated. Neville groaned, as if saying it had made it real somehow.

"We've just got to go on ahead with it," Ginny agreed.

"Next time, we burn any letters, right?" Harry said.

Hermione laughed. "What are we, secret agents?"

"Something like that," Ginny smirked.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," Harry grinned. "No one knows about that."

"And we've got me," Ginny pointed out.

"Not that you would be at all conceited, hmm, Ginny?" Hermione murmured.

Ginny, as usual, switched gears without a clutch, glaring daggers at Hermione. "You lot are the ones who keep trying to persuade me I'm so bloody special!"

Hermione's lips twitched. "Yeah, I know."

Harry sighed and shook his head at Neville, who grinned back. "And we have Fred and George. We can't underestimate them either. All in all, I think we could pull this off if Dumbledore himself knew what we were doing."

"What about McGonagall? Or Snape?" Neville asked.

"Let's cross those bridges if and when we have to," Ginny suggested.

* * *

Saturday evening found them all seated by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. Nearly Headless Nick had drifted through to say goodnight a few minutes before, and most of the stragglers had left after that. Harry noticed how slowly time passed when he stared at the grandfather clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He let his fingers brush Ginny's cheek softly, and felt her smile in response. They couldn't get caught. They were too good at sneaking around. Fred and George had started running an inventory to pass the time. He recognised stink pellets and dungbombs, two of the most common prank products at Hogwarts. The dungbombs were, as their name might suggest, the less subtle of the two. One dungbomb would release a thick, brown, foul gas that would spread to fill a room the size of their common room in a matter of seconds.

Soon, however, the twins were revealing new items that he didn't recognise.

"Hey guys, what're those?" Harry asked.

"These?" Fred said innocently.

"Just a few little tricks, brother," George smiled.

"Here, take a look," Fred grinned, flinging a small, discus-like object at Harry. He snatched it out of the air instinctively.

"One of our creations," George said proudly.

"Haven't given it a name yet," Fred added.

"Only finished it a few days ago," said George.

"You put it in a doorway."

"Activate it."

"Someone steps through..."

"Filibuster Fireworks!" they said in perfect stereo.

"Sweet," said Harry admiringly. It wasn't exactly subtle, but it made for an unmissable alarm or a powerful distraction. He made to toss it back, but Fred shook his head.

"Nope, that one's yours mate," he said.

"You might need it," George added.

"Cheers guys," Harry grinned, tucking it securely into an inner pocket of his robes. "How do you activate it?"

"Tap it with your wand."

"Say 'stand guard'."

"Cool," said Harry.

The clock struck eleven.

"Good luck guys," Neville said, heading upstairs.

"Try not to cause too much damage," Hermione told the twins.

"Aww Hermione, we wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah, if we wreck everything today..."

"What'll we spend the rest of term doing?"

She huffed at them, but added, "Thanks for helping, anyway."

"Anything for the pretty lady," George grinned.

Hermione blushed and ran upstairs.

"Well, let's do this," Ginny said.

"Five dungbombs, fifty stink pellets, five Filibuster Fireworks, ten slime sacks, five slap sticks and four... whatever these things are," George recounted.

"Plus a Norwegian Ridgeback," Fred grinned. "What could go wrong?"

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Ginny were knocking on the door to Hagrid's hut. They had worried for a moment because Peeves had been messing around in the clock tower. He did eventually run out of cogs and gears to smash, though, and just floated away, cackling madly to himself.

When they got down to the hut, they found that Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"You're doing the right thing, Hagrid," Ginny said softly, running up to the big man and giving him a hug. What with the size difference she was basically just leaning against his leg, but it seemed to comfort him a little.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hagrid said. "Get goin' then."

They pulled the invisibility cloak over themselves and Norbert, and cast levitation charms on the crate. As they did, there was a distant bang.

"That's our cue," Ginny whispered.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid called, sobbing. "Mummy will never forget you!"

They hurried up through secret passage after secret passage. Norbert seemed to appreciate the need for stealth, and was keeping quiet for once, which Harry was very grateful for since it was taking all of his concentration to keep his footing at the breakneck pace Ginny was setting.

The third time they emerged into a corridor, they froze upon seeing a sudden movement ahead of them. Harry's Levitation Charm went haywire for a second, and Ginny grunted with the effort of keeping the crate stable. They shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you..."

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming — he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

Norbert growled in his crate. Harry and Ginny stared at each other, and Harry hastily rubbed the wall behind them, opening up the secret passage for them to retreat into. However, as they sat in the dark passageway, waiting for McGonagall to come searching for them, they heard their Head of House storming off in the other direction with her charge. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall. It appeared that the cloak had muffled Norbert just enough for them to go unnoticed.

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. At the top of the tower they threw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Ginny's arms lit on fire instantly, and she did her little dance again, leaving glowing trails in the cold night air.

"Malfoy's got detention, Malfoy's got detention!" she grinned. "I wonder what Fred and George are up to?"

"Running for their lives from Snape in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net?" Harry suggested.

Ginny shuddered. "I'd sure as hell be running."

"Hey, it's cold, bring that fire closer," Harry smiled.

"This?" Ginny teased, making the flames dance across her body. Norbert thrashed harder in his crate, and there was an ominous cracking sound that killed the mood slightly. "Shit."

"Language," Harry laughed.

Ginny looked at him sideways. "If you're happy with Norbert breaking free and setting fire to the school..."

"Ginny, you're more likely to set fire to the school right now," Harry chuckled.

"Fair enough." She put out her arms with a jerk.

"Hey, why'd you do that?" Harry complained.

"Too visible," she smirked. "Don't want Snape running up here in a bathrobe and hair net."

A few minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Ginny the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them.

"You might want to use some kind of Unbreakable Charm on the crate," Ginny advised. "We think he's trying to break out."

"Ehh, I'll handle that," a tall, dark man said. " _Integrum Talius Rem Vinculus._ Ought to hold it for the journey."

"Thanks for doing this, guys," Harry said.

"Yeah, thank you," Ginny smiled.

"Not a problem, kids."

"It's something to tell the grandchildren about."

"Be good, kids."

They all shook hands and then the four men took off. At long last, Norbert was going... going... gone.

"Well," Ginny smirked. "Looks like it's just us now."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I wonder what Fred and George will think when we're not in the common room."

"I don't," Ginny replied. "Let's poke around."


	16. 16 - The Forbidden Forest

It was incredibly dark before the flash. Harry just barely saw a skeletally thin hand raising a long wand. Someone was laughing. It was a high, cold laugh. Cruel. Then there was a surge of green, bright as a bolt of lightning, and he saw a woman silhouetted in the glow. The laughter became louder, and the light brighter, blinding, as the woman fell...

Harry woke up gasping for breath. His scar was aflame, and he was covered in sweat that stuck him to his sheets. This was happening all too often now, but he couldn't bring himself to go to the hospital wing for something he was used to walking off, or curling-up-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairsing off. Pain was an old companion, and one he was used to dealing with. But now his scar burned almost constantly - he could no longer remember when the pain hadn't been there; nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Suddenly, someone threw open his bed curtains. It was still dark, so he wouldn't have known who it was if he couldn't feel her psionically.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, sounding panicked.

That was when he realised that the pain in his scar wasn't dying down as it usually did. It was getting worse. He tried to reach out to Ginny, but the pain was too great, and he curled into foetal position reflexively.

"Neville!" Ginny hissed. He could hear her shaking him violently.

"Whu-? What? What?" Neville gasped.

Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself moaning in pain. _'What... what is this?!'_

"Neville, get Ron up and go get help!" Ginny said urgently. "Harry's in pain. I think it's his scar."

"I... Got it," Neville replied.

"I'm here, Harry," Ginny said soothingly, brushing the hair out of his face. "It'll be okay."

"Nnnngh," Harry replied through clenched teeth.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cried. He'd only just been released from the hospital wing himself.

"Ron, come on, I'll explain on the way," Neville urged. Their footsteps died away as they ran down the stone steps to the common room.

"It _is_ your scar, isn't it, Harry?" Ginny asked softly.

"Nngh-nnngh," Harry agreed. He could hardly even see now, but he could feel Ginny warm and bright beside him; with that to hold onto he found that he could bear the pain.

Then her finger was on his scar, and the world exploded.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he found that it wasn't dark anymore. He wasn't in his bed either. He was lying beneath a high, white ceiling, and as he tried to sit up he noticed that his bed was one of many, covered in white sheets. He also noticed that there was someone holding his hand.

"Harry, I'm so sorry!" Ginny whispered. "I thought..."

 ** _'_** ** _Don't worry about it,'_** Harry replied. **_'I know you were only trying to help.'_**

"But still, I felt your pain, Harry," Ginny persisted, horrified. It was only then that Harry noticed there were tear tracks running down her cheeks.

"Ginny, you're crying," Harry stated. As his mind got back up to speed he kicked himself.

"I'm fine, don't be stupid," Ginny sniffed. "I can't believe I did that to you."

"It wasn't you, it was my scar," Harry said firmly.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey arrived with a vial full of some orange liquid.

"I suppose I should thank you, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey sighed.

"But I didn't do anything, Madam Pomfrey," Harry insisted. The ritual which had restored his body, and somehow Madam Pomfrey's youth, was as much a mystery to him as to her. He'd just sat there and let her do her thing.

"Well, neither I nor any of my peers can work out what it was that you did," Madam Pomfrey confided as she cast a series of charms on him. "There wasn't the slightest trace of spellwork on me besides that of the ritual I performed on you."

"I'd say magic, but..."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a tired smile. "Yes, well, drink this Mr. Potter. There is more than one mystery to be solved here."

"Why my scar did that," Harry offered, taking the potion. It tasted like very, very old milk.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to notice his displeasure. "I know it's foul, but you need to drink all of that. It'll help with the nerve damage. You had quite the shock to your system."

"Harry, Professor McGonagall went to get Professor Dumbledore," Ginny explained. "He's not on school grounds, so it might be a while."

"I thought Apparating was instant," Harry frowned.

"Sure, but they need to find him," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, he might be in the middle of something, like an ICW gathering. Although, the next one of those is at the summer solstice..."

"Regardless, there's nothing that I can find wrong with the scar," Madam Pomfrey frowned. "It seems to be a curse scar just like any other. The lingering traces of Dark magic interfere with any attempts to heal it, but I can't find even a whisper of what caused this attack."

"I was having a nightmare," Harry recalled suddenly. Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow slightly. "It was about Voldemort."

"Please, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey whispered, closing her eyes. "Please, do not say the name."

"Um, alright," Harry said awkwardly. "Well, I was having a nightmare about him before I woke up. I've been having nightmares like that more and more lately, and my scar, well..."

"It's been flaring up, has it?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "You should have come straight to me, Mr. Potter. Keep this incident in mind the next time you want to keep your problems to yourself."

Harry sighed. She was right, he knew, but it wasn't as if she could have done that much to help. Perhaps she knew that too, and it wounded her pride to know that this was beyond her skill and knowledge.

"Hermione's taking your homework," Ginny smiled.

Harry couldn't help laughing. It felt indescribably good to laugh now, as if dark clouds were parting overhead. Madam Pomfrey was running her wand over him again, and Ginny was holding his hand tightly as if frightened that he might drift away out the window.

 ** _'_** ** _Ginny, it isn't that I don't appreciate this,'_** Harry began.

 ** _'_** ** _My class today is with McGonagall, genius,'_** said Ginny, smiling tightly.

 ** _'_** ** _Well, how about I fill in?'_** Harry asked, a grin spreading across his face.

 ** _'_** ** _What are we going to do today, Professor Potter?'_** Ginny smirked.

 ** _'_** ** _Turn...'_**

"Well, the Neural Regenerator has started to take effect," Madam Pomfrey said. "You may notice random discomfort and headaches. Just ignore it, and Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

"The same as last time," she said firmly. "No strenuous activity at all for at least a week. You'll be staying here for the next two nights, and you will avoid doing anything that excites or stresses you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry sighed. "Ginny, you'd probably better leave."

She turned a distressed, mutinous look on him that made him regret saying it. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have realised that he was joking though, clucking her tongue disapprovingly and heading off.

"Anything that excites or stresses me?" Harry grinned. "I'll be gone before dinner."

Ginny's expression hardened into fury. "Don't joke like that, Harry! You have no idea what it was like! You seized up like you were having a fit or something, and then you went totally still. If you didn't have a pulse I'd have totally freaked out, I mean..."

"Ginny, I'm sorry," Harry grimaced. _'Way to go, genius.'_ "Thanks for being here. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't found me last night."

"You're not off the hook, Harry," she said angrily. "If I wasn't terrified of all that happening again, I'd bloody well pummel you."

"Hey, it won't," Harry said firmly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Ginny flinched, jerking her hand away as if burned, but Harry held fast.

"Harry why is this happening?" Ginny cried out, exasperated.

"A very good question, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "How do you feel, Mr. Potter?"

"I've been worse, professor," Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned. "Professor Dumbledore is on his way. We shall see what he has to make of this," she said flatly. Then, in a softer tone, she added, "Potter... next time, do be sure to tell someone about it. We won't share what you tell us if you don't want us to. If you're uncomfortable talking to me or Madam Pomfrey, any professor... or your new family..."

"Yes, professor," Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "It's my job to make sure that you're safe and happy here, Potter. To become the best that you can be. But I can't do that without your help."

"I am certain that young Harry will keep that in mind from now on, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said as he strode in.

Professor Dumbledore was an incredibly tall man, standing at about six foot five, and his white hair and beard were so long that he could tuck them into his belt. In fact, he did just that with his beard. His sparkling blue eyes were like the most crystalline gems, clear and sharp as they looked upon him - into him.

"Harry, I need you to recount the events of last night with all the detail you can muster. Any one point may be far more important than at first it seems."

And so Harry related his story, starting with the nightmare and ending with the all-encompassing pain of Ginny's fingers on his scar.

When he was done, Dumbledore simply looked at him, making not a sound. Just as Harry started to feel uncomfortable, Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"Miss Weasley," he said softly, "would you do me the kindness of raising your hand toward Harry's forehead." Ginny opened her mouth to protest. "I assure you that he will not be harmed. Please raise your hand."

Ginny did as she was told, and Harry offered her a reassuring smile. When he felt her skin on his, warm and soft, he saw that Ginny was trembling and took both of her hands in his.

"Harry..." Ginny breathed.

"Hmm," Dumbledore said. He moved from the foot of Harry's bed to his side, peering down at him through his half-moon spectacles.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"This is a most interesting development," Dumbledore said in a less than happy tone. "I will need time to think on this. For now, I ask that you keep Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey fully informed, Harry."

"Okay, sir," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded, and swept out of the hospital wing without another word. Just then, Madam Pomfrey reappeared from her office, tucking her wand away inside her robes.

"Mum was here earlier," Ginny told him, "but she had to get back to the house. With nobody there to take care of things..."

"Who was there at Christmas?" Harry asked.

"The Diggorys offered to have their house-elf take care of the animals," she explained.

"... Nice of them," Harry muttered, imagining the Dursleys lending him out to the neighbours. He had seen first-hand just how much house-elves enjoyed servitude, but it was still a difficult concept for him to grasp.

"If there is nothing either of you wish to discuss with me, I have work to do," Professor McGonagall said.

"We're fine, thanks, professor," said Harry.

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly and left, stopping by Madam Pomfrey to whisper something in her ear.

"I've run tests on your blood as well, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, "and apart from a considerable immune response, there's nothing out of the ordinary."

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I don't...?"

"In other words," Madam Pomfrey interrupted him, "your body was readying itself to fight an infection."

"My scar...?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"An infection in your scar would explain the white blood cells," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "But there was no infection. It makes no sense, Mr. Potter."

As the healer left, Ginny turned to Harry with a deadly serious look on her face.

"Harry, your dream, your scar... What do they have in common?"

Harry stared at her. "Ginny..."

"Snape's a dickhead, and he probably does want to steal the Stone. But who would want it even more?"

"You can't be suggesting that...?"

"When he took you to Diagon Alley to get your stuff, Hagrid told you that You-Know-Who wasn't dead," Ginny said through gritted teeth.

Harry stared at the ceiling. Hagrid _had_ told him that, but he didn't have any proof – just his and Dumbledore's hunches. Which was more just Dumbledore's hunch, really, since Hagrid probably hadn't disagreed with the headmaster since his own school days.

Ginny reached up and stroked his scar gently, wincing as she made contact but persisting regardless. "I've got your back, Harry," she said. "We all do."

She had to leave then, as she did still have lessons to go to, but she promised to be back at lunchtime. Just then, Mrs Weasley burst in looking like death warmed over.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried. "You're awake! How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Mum," said Harry, flushing in embarrassment. It wasn't reflexive yet, to call her that, but he felt he owed it to her.

She embraced him tightly, and Harry flinched slightly, but relaxed into it. It seemed like the only person who could hold him without consequence was Ginny. Mrs Weasley sat on the side of his bed, and brushed his hair away from his scar, her eyes filled with concern.

"Do they know what happened?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore said he'd need time to think about it."

"He'll find the answer," Mrs Weasley said softly. "He always does."

* * *

Wednesday morning found Harry sitting in the common room with Hermione, working feverishly through the piles of homework that had built up while he lay in the hospital wing. Most of the professors had extended his deadlines, but he wasn't surprised by those who didn't. At least he'd gotten today's assignment for Professor Snape done.

He was distracted by a loudly yawning Ginny, who smirked at him when she finally shut her mouth. "There's a practical side to the exams as well ,you know, Harry."

Harry made a face at her.

"He is well aware of that," said Hermione. _'You can say that again,'_ Harry thought wryly. Hermione had been going on about the exams for weeks now.

"Let's put that to the test," Ginny grinned. "Transfiguration, Harry. Turn this into a needle."

She hurled a matchstick across the room. Harry tugged his wand free of his robes, tracking the matchstick instinctively as he chanted. He just saw its silvery glint, before it embedded itself in a seat cushion.

" _Wingardium leviosa_ ," Hermione incanted.

The two inch long steel spike came free slowly and steadily, and a passing fourth-year gave a low whistle.

"Hope you're not planning on using any of us for target practice," he said, half joking. At the predatory grin Ginny gave him, the mirth left his expression and he hurried on his way.

"Not bad, Harry," Ginny commended him.

"Thanks," he grinned. If only the whole exam would be that easy…

"It's _very_ sharp," Hermione gasped. Harry turned to notice that she was closely examining the needle, and had pricked her finger on the end.

" _Hermione_!" said Ginny. She walked over and took Hermione's finger in her hand, closing her eyes. When she stepped back, Hermione wiped the small bead of blood off, revealing that her finger was completely unblemished.

"Thanks, Ginny…" said Hermione.

"You're welcome," Ginny replied brightly. "Okay… Now switch the needle for something."

Before Hermione had a chance to protest, the needle had been replaced by firewood from the basket. Harry couldn't help but laugh, but he levitated the log back into the basket for her.

"You'd better know a good cleaning spell," Hermione said, as she brushed the debris off her robes.

" _Scourgify_ ," Ginny smirked with a wave of her hand. Almost instantaneously, she lurched forwards as if unable to support herself. They soon realised why. It was as if the room was under attack by a wave of invisible cleaners. Even the ash and embers disappeared from the fireplace.

"When I said a good cleaning spell," said Hermione, "I meant for my robes, not the whole castle."

"In for a sickle, in for a galleon," Ginny muttered.

"You'll get a hang of it," Harry assured her. "You're doing pretty well already."

"Thanks, Harry," said Ginny flatly.

"Come on," he grinned, taking her by the arm and dragging her out of the common room.

"Where we going?" Ginny asked. She got no answer though.

"Where are they going?" Ron asked as they left through the portrait hole.

Although not extensive by any means, Harry's knowledge of the secret passages within Hogwarts soon had them far away from the Gryffindor common room. When they emerged out on the Transfiguration Courtyard, Ginny finally stopped him, grinning.

"Seriously, Harry, where the hell are we going?"

Deciding honesty was the best policy, Harry admitted, "I have no idea."

"What are we doing, then?" she asked, exasperated.

"You were feeling down, so I thought I'd do something for you," Harry said. "Only problem is, I haven't figured out what to do yet."

"You're such an idiot sometimes," she laughed.

"Hey, you're feeling better, aren't you?" he asked.

She shoved him playfully backwards.

"Mission accomplished," he smiled.

"When did you and Hermione get up, anyway?" Ginny asked.

"Don't even ask," Harry groaned, picking up a stray Exploding Snap card someone had left in the grass. It didn't have any identifying features that he could see, so he figured he'd just let Percy handle it. It'd give him something vaguely prefect-y to work on, at least.

"Aww, is she working you too hard?" Ginny mocked. "Do you want me to talk to her for you, Harry?"

"How would you like me to switch your ears with a rabbit's?" Harry griped.

"Hey, that'd be pretty funny actually," she laughed. "I can just imagine them... so soft and furry."

They sat together on a bench, facing the armillary sphere at the centre of the courtyard. He'd heard that you could tell the time using it, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea where to start.

"I've been thinking, Harry," said Ginny suddenly.

Harry jolted out of his reverie to turn and face her. "What about?"

"Your cloak," she said. "Why would they have sent it to you at Christmas? If they were keeping it for your Dad, why not send it to you as soon as you got to Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged. "So I could have a chance to get used to everything before another weird and wonderful thing got shoved in my face?"

"Maybe," Ginny said, though she didn't seem to think so. "But as soon as it became common knowledge that you were at Hogwarts, which was on the day you turned up at Hogwarts, they were holding on to something they had no right to."

"You're being kind of harsh, Ginny," Harry said. "I mean, they did give it back."

"That's not the point," she frowned. "Anyway, I was looking around for records of who your dad used to hang around with, because I remembered Mum and Dad saying he had a group of famous troublemakers all through school..."

Harry grinned at that thought.

"One's dead," Ginny said softly. "Peter Pettigrew. Killed by one of the others..."

"Sirius Black," Harry snarled. "Who's rotting in Azkaban."

Ginny looked a little taken aback at the venom in his voice. If he was honest, he was more than a little surprised himself. He didn't think he was that angry.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "But one's still alive. Remus Lupin."

"Never heard of him," Harry said honestly. "Who was he?"

"Bookish, quiet type," said Ginny. "Got eleven passes at OWL, nothing below an E."

At Harry's confused look, she explained.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels are the basic exams in Britain," she said. "We take them at the end of fifth year. Usually people will only take nine classes, and maybe pass seven or eight. The best score is outstanding, then there's exceeds expectations, acceptable, poor, dreadful and troll."

"Ouch," Harry winced. "Well, he sounds a bit like Hermione. And he's still around, you say?"

"Actually, I don't know," Ginny replied. "I mean, I think so, but he might just have disappeared. I haven't heard anything about him dying or getting locked up or anything. There's nothing on him since the end of the war."

Harry sighed softly. "Would explain why I never heard from him. Pity."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Well, that kind of kills my theory."

"There's still Dumbledore," Harry grinned.

"Yes, there is," Ginny snorted. "Come on, let's go get breakfast."

* * *

"Hey, guess what I just heard," said Neville.

"What?" Harry asked.

They were all lounging about in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione was relaxing for once, although she _was_ relaxing with a book, so they didn't feel the need to take her to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Professor McGonagall gave Malfoy detention for being out of bed past curfew that night," Neville said.

"We're dying of suspense," Ginny grinned.

"She gave him detention with Hagrid," Neville enthused.

Harry and Ginny chuckled to themselves at that. Hermione, on the other hand, looked terrified. Hagrid was the man who'd called a full-grown cerberus 'Fluffy'.

"What happened?"

"They went into the Forest," said Neville.

That got their attention. The Forbidden Forest was off-limits even for the head boy and girl. People told stories about the kinds of creatures that lived in there — werewolves, trolls and kelpies (shape-shifting, minor water demons).

"When was this?" Harry asked.

"Just this afternoon, after classes," Neville continued. "He wasn't too happy about it."

"I'll bet," Ginny murmured.

"Hey, where's Ron?" Neville asked.

"No idea," said Harry. "Haven't seen him since History of Magic."

"Well, I was thinking we could go down and visit Hagrid," said Neville, smirking. "You know, find out how much Malfoy wet himself."

"What about Ron?" asked Ginny.

"Ron!" Harry called. "Anybody seen Ron?"

Those who bothered to respond shook their heads.

"Pff, his loss," Ginny said. "Let's go."

After Harry grabbed his cloak from his dormitory, they headed out, donning it in a secret passageway on their way down.

"So Alicia was complaining about the braking charms on her broom playing up," said Harry as they went through a door pretending to be a wall.

"And Fred said, 'Why not ride mine?'" Ginny added, facepalming.

"So Alicia says, 'Sorry Fred, it's not big enough,'" Harry laughed.

Too late, they noticed a couple of Hufflepuff prefects rounding a corner on patrol. Harry and Hermione pulled everyone back through the secret mirror entrance and into the smallest excuse for an alcove ever created.

"I swear I heard laughing," the boy said.

"What's that spell to find people again?" the girl asked.

"Shit," Ginny whispered. Harry made a face at her, and she drew a line across her throat. **_'No point even running now.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Why not?'_**

They could just see the prefects now, for the entrance to the secret passageway was only a one-way mirror, and offered a blurry view of the corridor beyond.

"I never learned it," the boy laughed. "You and your extra classes."

 ** _'_** ** _It shows people like ghosts through walls, water, whatever,'_** Ginny explained. **_'Dad told me about it.'_**

"I didn't get it from an extra class, I heard the head boy talking about it," she complained. " _Homenum Revelio!_ "

Harry held his breath. The girl on the other side of the mirror was panning her wand slowly around.

"Dammit, Aaron, I take those classes because I'm shite at charms and you know it!" she cursed. "Not even you're showing up! _Homenum Revelio!_ "

"Come on, you'll do yourself an injury," Aaron chuckled. "Let the kids have their fun."

"Sometimes I wonder why you're even a prefect in the first place," the girl grumbled as they headed off.

"It's my easy charm and dashing good looks," Aaron laughed.

" _Volnusempra!_ "

"Ow, fuck!" Aaron cursed. "No magic in the hallways, Natalia!"

"You are so in for..." Natalia's voice faded away.

"That's got to be the luckiest escape we've ever had," Ginny sniggered.

"Luckier than Fluffy?" Neville asked.

"I had that all under control," Ginny said dismissively.

"Let's get going before the next patrol arrives," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

They didn't hit any more patrols at all on their way to the clock tower. It provided the easiest way to Hagrid's hut at night, for there were no large doors to bar their way. The only real disadvantage was the amount of time spent in open corridors, although that wasn't a problem with the invisibility cloak at hand. The walk was incredibly boring, as they had to keep quiet while out in the open lest they attract unwanted attention. Still, they didn't encounter a single other patrol as they rushed down the steps of the clock tower and out into the courtyard.

The night sky was perfectly clear tonight, although a chill wind was picking up and making them all shiver, even under the cloak and their school robes. They hurried across the covered bridge, holding tightly to the cloak to keep the wind from whipping it off them. It was churning up the river something fierce in the ravine a hundred metres below them. Bursting out onto the dirt path, they slowed their frantic pace for the treacherous route down towards Hagrid's hut.

Harry pulled the cloak off them as they came up to Hagrid's door, folding the material and stuffing it into a cavernous inside pocket of his robes. Neville rapped loudly on the door, which was answered almost instantly.

"Hey Hagr..." Harry trailed off at the sight of the huge crossbow in Hagrid's hand. " _What?_ "

"It's a bad time," said Hagrid.

"We can tell," Hermione said faintly.

"What's going on, Hagrid?" Ginny asked.

Hagrid let out a massive breath that made everyone's hair flutter. "It's the unicorns. Summat's bin killin' 'em."

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I know," Hagrid said sadly. "Professor Dumbledore gave me leave ter investigate."

"Hagrid, you can't go in alone!" Ginny cried. "If whatever it is has killed unicorns..."

"I can 'andle meself," Hagrid reassured her, patting his crossbow. Ginny still looked frantic, though. When she turned her terrified eyes on him, Harry immediately knew why.

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he asked, "Hagrid, what would kill a unicorn?"

"A dragon, maybe, or a demon of some sort..."

"Why would something kill one, though?" Harry pressed.

Hagrid stopped and looked him in the eye. "Demons kill whatever gets in their way. Dragons kill fer food, or if summat threatens their young. Bu' not a one makes a bit o' sense 'ere."

"So what's left?" Neville asked.

"Hagrid, this is crazy!" Ginny cried. "You can't fight something as powerful as a demon or a dragon on your own!"

"I'm not going ter fight it," he said. "I'm just tracking the unicorn's body."

"It might not give you a choice," Ginny insisted.

"Then I'll feed it some enchanted silver and get out o' there," Hagrid said, exasperated. "Now stop worrying and get back to bed, the lot of yeh. Here, Fang."

Harry pulled everyone to him before throwing the cloak over them, hiding them from sight. Hagrid stared at the spot where they'd disappeared for a few seconds, before turning and heading into the forest.

"We're going to follow him," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Neville asked miserably.

"You'd rather just sit around and let him get killed?" Ginny accused.

"You really think you're a better fighter than Hagrid?" Neville shot back.

"Well..." Ginny faltered.

"Me and Hermione will go find McGonagall," Neville said. "You two can go play hero, that's fine, but you'd better stay under that bloody cloak, okay?"

"Good luck," Hermione whispered, and the two of them ran off towards the castle.

"Let's go," Harry muttered.

They soon found Hagrid, kneeling over a small pool of something silvery and viscous. He dipped a finger in it, and it slid off in a slow, smooth stream. Fang approached slowly, sniffing, but when he got close to the blood he scampered backwards and hid his head under his paws, whining piteously.

"Come on, Fang, ye dozy dog," Hagrid grumbled. Fang made his displeasure quite clear, but got hesitantly back on his paws and padded after Hagrid.

If it had been dark outside, the forest itself was where light came to die. It was only thanks to Hagrid's lamp that they could see at all, and that was but a vague cone in front of their massive friend. Still, that wasn't the worst thing. It was the complete and utter silence that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Every sound was amplified a hundred times, so that a twig snapping underfoot was like a bone breaking. Harry found himself twitching and looking around nervously at the slightest rustle of a bird moving in the trees.

They followed Hagrid through a series of forks and junctions that Harry was sure he'd already lost track of. It was hard to tell how many paths met at each junction, because Hagrid didn't bother to cast his lamplight everywhere. Somehow managing to break through the canopy, the occasional ray of moonlight would shine ten times brighter off a spot of silver-blue blood spattered on the undergrowth.

They had only walked for a few minutes when Ginny gripped Harry's hand tightly enough to make him gasp aloud.

 ** _'_** ** _Over there!'_**

Harry raised his wand, and gripped the cloak in his left hand. Ginny pulled them slowly, quietly to the side, her hand ablaze and tracking unseen enemies.

Hagrid seemed to have noticed something too, for he had unshouldered his crossbow and was sweeping it around him looking for whatever was... slithering. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby. ' _A cloak?'_ Just then, Harry's forehead started to itch insistently. Not just his forehead — it was his scar. He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes to stay focused and his wand arm steady.

For a terrible moment, Harry thought Hagrid was going to fire right at them. He kept the crossbow trained on them, or rather, through them, for an inordinate amount of time and they crouched slowly so as not to spook him into loosing a bolt. But the slithering faded away into the distance, leaving them with only the ambient sound of running water, and Hagrid gradually lowered the weapon.

"Knew it," Hagrid muttered. "Summat's here as shouldn' be."

Harry and Ginny shared a look. He took heart at the steel in her eyes. Even though he was terrified, he knew that Ginny wouldn't and couldn't cower in the corner; he felt honour-bound to ensure she wasn't alone.

 ** _'_** ** _Neville and Hermione are getting help,'_** Ginny said silently, **_'it won't come to that.'_**

 _'_ _Reading my mind as always,'_ Harry grinned to himself. They would be alright. They had to be.

They came upon a clearing then, and something definitely moved ahead.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself! I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came... something. At first it seemed to be a tall man, and it was, to the waist at least. Below that, however, was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry felt his jaw go slack.

 ** _'_** ** _A centaur!'_** Ginny cried mentally. **_'I've never seen one before!'_**

Harry winced at the volume, wishing Ginny wasn't quite so excitable.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, slow, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can' be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad in this forest."

Ronan considered Hagrid momentarily, before flinging his head back and staring at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up too. "Listen, I'm glad ter run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin 'urt. Yeh seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," Hagrid agreed. He seemed to shake himself. "Have yeh seen anythin' though, Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated patiently, while Hagrid rapidly became less so. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual... a bit nearer 'ome?" Hagrid asked hopelessly. "So yeh haven' noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur. Black of skin and hair, this one seemed more wild and powerful than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?" Bane's voice was gruffer and faster than Ronan's, though he seemed perfectly cordial with Hagrid as well.

"Well enough. Look, I jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured – would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. Fang nuzzled Hagrid's ankle, as if sharing the sentiment. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

"Ruddy stargazers," Hagrid muttered once they were out of earshot. "Never interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

They'd only walked for a couple more minutes when Fang started whining.

"What is it, Fang?" Hagrid asked, lowering the lamp slightly. There was no more blood on the path. "Scared off the path..." Hagrid muttered. "Yeh got its scent?"

Fang sniffed around, leading them off to the right into denser and denser woodland. It was only seconds before they saw the next patch of blood.

"Good boy," Hagrid said affectionately, scratching behind Fang's ear. Fang perked up slightly, having been miserable for the whole expedition. They made good time after that, but Harry couldn't help noting that the faster they were moving, the longer it would take for help from the castle to arrive.

It had been about fifteen minutes since they left the beaten path, and the blood was definitely getting thicker now, with big splashes here and there as if the poor thing had been thrashing around in pain. There was a great amount of it over the roots of a tree, and Harry knew that it couldn't be much further. The unicorn had almost given up here. Looking at the spot, Harry could almost feel its pain and fear.

"Ohh," Hagrid breathed.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground in a clearing just ahead. Ginny gripped Harry's forearm, and he could just see her biting her lip in her anguish, tears glistening in her eyes. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead.

Harry had never seen something so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Hagrid had taken one step forward when a slithering sound made them all freeze where they stood. Harry's scar was itching terribly again, and he was just reaching up to scratch it when a bush at the edge of the clearing quivered.

They hardly dared to breathe. Hagrid raised his crossbow, silent but true. Fang slipped quietly backwards, hiding behind Hagrid's massive form.

Out of the shadows, a hooded figure glided across the ground like something out of a nightmare. They all stood transfixed as it descended on its prey, lowered its head over the open wound in the creature's side, and began to drink the shining blood.

Everything happened at once.

A terrible pain erupted in Harry's forehead. As he staggered free of the cloak, a maelstrom erupted around him.

"BEAST!" Hagrid roared, firing his crossbow. Spells started flying everywhere.

"Fiend!"

"Abomination!"

Hooves, pounding the earth with great fury, were charging straight towards... whatever it was.

"Harry!" Ginny hissed.

Harry was in too much pain. He clutched at his forehead and groaned. He couldn't see; he couldn't hear past his own frantic, ragged breathing, and all he could hear was a rushing and a ringing in his ears.

Finally, mercifully, it began to fade. The spellfire was gone, as was Hagrid's crossbow.

"Are you all right?"

Harry forced his eyes open. The pain was leaving him now, and he was looking into the face of a new centaur. This one was much younger than the others, with pale skin and hair, and sapphire blue eyes which lingered on the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Yes, thanks," Harry replied. "Um... Who are you?"

"You are the Potter boy," he said.

Harry nodded, although the centaur did not seem to need his confirmation. He was looking around for Hagrid and the sources of the other two voices. He thought one was McGonagall, and the other had to have been Professor Flitwick, their diminutive Charms teacher. They were nowhere to be found.

"The humans chased after it," the centaur told him. "Hagrid too."

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? We are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared onto his hind legs in anger.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

The two centaurs stared each other down. Harry didn't need to be told that Bane wasn't going to give in.

"Come, Harry Potter," Firenze said quietly.

They walked away, following in the footsteps of Hagrid, Flitwick and McGonagall, leaving the other two centaurs behind.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "And what was that thing, anyway?"

Firenze did not answer for a little while. Only when they were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees did Firenze suddenly stop.

"Your friend treads heavier than she thinks," he commented lightly.

Ginny's muffled curse made Harry smile even in this dark hour.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," Harry said, startled. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions class."

Ginny sniffled lightly. Firenze spared her a quick glance in spite of her invisibility, before turning back to Harry. "That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

"But who'd be that desperate?" Harry wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone!" Harry cried, feeling ice water pool in his guts. They hadn't been paranoid. The Stone was in terrible, terrible danger. "Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who –"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met:

 _"_ _Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."_

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was _Vol-_ "

"Potter!"

It was Professor McGonagall.

"From the moment Granger and Longbottom came to me I had my suspicions... Where are the Weasleys?"

"Professor, they're not here," Harry lied. "Ginny's back at the Tower, and I don't even know where Ron is."

"Harry!" Hagrid called. "I thought I told yeh ter get back ter Gryffindor Tower."

"I couldn't let you do this alone," Harry explained. "Neville and Hermione went to get help, but I knew that would take time. So I followed you."

Hagrid made an exasperated noise.

"I'll be taking ten points from you for breaking curfew with such abandon," McGonagall said furiously. "But for this! Potter, there is a reason why we don't allow students to wander the forest. There are worse things than trolls wandering these woods!"

"Which is why I couldn't stand to watch Hagrid go in alone!" Harry protested.

"Don't talk back to me, Potter, you're in enough trouble as it is," McGonagall snapped. "Hagrid had a boarhound and a crossbow."

"To defend himself against something that was killing unicorns!" Harry pressed.

"And what exactly were you planning to do, Potter?" McGonagall asked. " _Flipendo_ this assailant into the abyss?"

"Probably, Professor," Harry admitted, his cheeks reddening in the darkness. "If it gave Hagrid a better chance."

"Such bravery is not admirable, Potter, it is foolish," McGonagall said sternly. "You must learn to draw the line. If and when you become a skilled combatant, such actions might be appropriate, but you are a first year student, Potter. Remember that. Forty points from Gryffindor for this sheer stupidity. You will serve detention with me both nights of the coming weekend, from six thirty in my classroom."

Harry gaped at her. Forty points in one hit was devastating. Even Snape was never that harsh.

"Close your mouth, Potter, you'll start catching flies," McGonagall said sharply. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Professor McGonagall," Harry said sullenly.

"Professor McGonagall isn't doing this for fun, Potter," said Flitwick. "She's trying to keep you from throwing yourself in harm's way next time, because she wants to keep you safe."

Harry nodded, and Firenze, who'd been watching silently the whole time, finally addressed the others.

"While I would like to stay and chat," he said in an ambiguous tone, "I think it best if Harry Potter leaves the forest as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course," McGonagall agreed. "I'm sorry, but I never caught your name."

"I am Firenze, Minerva McGonagall," he said, already heading off into the darkness. "They call me Firenze."

"I've never known a centaur to volunteer to help humans," Professor McGonagall mused.

"I think he was more interested in fighting that thing off than helping us, professor," Harry suggested.

"Our enemy was certainly an expert at running away," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Feeding on unicorn blood... Of all the depraved things..."

"Professor Dumbledore must be informed," McGonagall frowned. "I shall leave that to you, Professor Flitwick. Hagrid can make a full report after he finishes with the unicorn."

"O' course, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid answered, heading back towards the clearing.

"You shall come with me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "We're going straight back to Gryffindor Tower, in case you decide to wander. And we can see whether the Weasleys are indeed in their beds."

Harry cast about with his feelings, noting Ginny's presence just a few feet away. _'Better safe than sorry,'_ Harry thought wryly to himself.

The walk back grated on Harry's nerves. If it was possible, he was jumpier than on the way in. They found their way out quite quickly though, and even Professor McGonagall seemed to relax as the trees gave way to starry sky.

Of course, as soon as they were out of the forest, Ginny bolted towards the castle. After only a couple of minutes, Harry found that he couldn't get an accurate lock on her position. While he trusted that Ginny could get back in time, Harry did his best to slow Professor McGonagall down without arousing her suspicions. The harsh wind almost made Harry wish he was back in the forest. By the time they reached the main doors, he was so cold he could barely even flex his hands.

Professor McGonagall remained ominously silent as she led him up the Grand Staircase and through the seventh floor to Gryffindor Tower.

"Good evening, Fat Lady," said Professor McGonagall.

"Good evening Professor McGonagall," the Fat Lady replied tiredly. Harry wondered for a moment how Ginny had managed to get past the portrait, but realised that Neville or Hermione must have been waiting on the other side.

"Have you seen anyone coming or going from the common room in the past hour or so?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"The Longbottom boy and the Granger girl came through about half an hour ago," the Fat Lady offered. "I can't say that I've seen anything else, Professor."

Professor McGonagall gave the Fat Lady a curt nod. Then she turned to Harry, and gave him a long, hard stare. "Mr. Potter, why is it that you have no regard for your own welfare?"

Harry looked blankly back at her.

"Just get yourself and the others to bed now," Professor McGonagall said, sounding slightly vexed. "I won't be so lenient next time."

When Harry went through the portrait hole, the others were indeed sitting around waiting for him. Ginny was flushed and panting in an armchair by the fire, and Ron was sitting on the floor playing with his wand.

"Ginny told us about it," Hermione said.

"Forty points," Ron winced. "That's pretty rough."

"Tell that to the unicorn," Harry said darkly. Ginny's breath hitched audibly. "Where were you anyway?"

"I was hanging out with Dean and Seamus," Ron said defensively. "It's not my fault nobody warned me."

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Harry. It would have helped if Ron was there to warn, but it wasn't worth starting a fight over now. "Look, guys, we need to talk."

"About why your scar started hurting when you saw the unicorn?" Hermione asked.

"Not the unicorn," Harry corrected, "the thing that was feeding on it."

Neville made a face and muttered something under his breath.

"Feeding on it?" Ron asked, sounding both horrified and fascinated at the same time.

"Something under a dark cloak killed that unicorn," Harry explained. "And when we got to the unicorn… It was drinking its blood."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

"Anyway, Ginny and I have had a theory since this thing landed me in the hospital wing," said Harry. He gestured vaguely towards his forehead. "We reckon that since I was having a nightmare about Voldemort at the time…"

The others all twitched or winced at the name.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry complained, "why are you upset about it?"

"It's not right," said Hermione. "You should respect that."

"I'm the one whose parents he killed," Harry argued. "Anyway, we think that my scar is some kind of link to him. Dumbledore and Hagrid say that Voldemort didn't die. And there was a centaur, in the Forest."

Ginny turned to face him. A tear was rolling down her cheek, glistening in the low light. "It can't be true, Harry."

"Are you with me?" Harry asked. Ron nodded, not realising that the question wasn't directed towards him.

"Always," Ginny promised.

"You're saying that was You-Know-Who?!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And he's the one after the Stone," Harry agreed. "Most of the centaurs want to stand by and watch, but Firenze has decided to fight against Lord Voldemort himself."

"If he's back," Ron ventured, "d'you think he's going to try and kill you?"

Everyone turned to give him incredulous looks.

Ron let out a long breath. "And to think, I was worrying about my end of year in Potions."

"Well," Neville said, "whoever said school wasn't interesting?"

"What's stopping him from going after the Stone already?" Harry asked.

"Not Fluffy, surely," Hermione grimaced. "He's intimidating, but a Dark wizard would probably just blast him into the next century."

"There'll be plenty of wards and stuff," Ron offered. "But if it's really You-Know-Who..."

"Look at us," Ginny giggled. "We're talking like we can do something about it!"

Harry gave her a significant look.

"No," Ginny said vehemently. "We can't get involved."

"She's right," Neville said, not meeting Harry's eyes. "The professors already knew it was at risk, and now they know that there's something in the Forest that can kill unicorns. They'll be dealing with it."

"I borrowed a book on unicorns from a sixth year when I got back," said Hermione. "They can move faster than thought. What could we do? We'd just get ourselves killed, Harry."

"Well, I reckon Harry's right," Ron said, standing up. "Whatever we can do, we have to do it."

"And what's that, Ron?" Ginny asked. "Go charging down there and duel You-Know-Who?"

The tips of Ron's ears went bright red.

"Look," said Harry. "If Voldemort gets a hold of that Stone, we're all finished."

"It's not that simple," Hermione argued. "What if we trip some of the professor's traps and get ourselves killed? We could end up just making things easier for him!"

"Except we won't be going down that trapdoor," Harry grinned.

"What?" Ron whirled around to stare at him.

"We have an invisibility cloak, remember?" Harry laughed. "We're just going to watch that corridor."

"They'll already be doing that," said Neville.

"They weren't the last time we were there," Ron said darkly.

"They hadn't seen something drinking unicorn blood," Hermione pointed out.

"We're going in circles!" Ginny cried. "Are we going to do something or not?"

Harry stared at her. He was forgetting something...

"What, Harry, what is it?" Ginny asked, blushing.

"My scar..." Harry whispered. He fancied that it twinged slightly. "It hurt in the Forest when that thing went past us, and it hurt again when it was feeding on the unicorn blood. I think it's more than just a link between me and Voldemort. I reckon it hurts..."

"When he's nearby!" Hermione almost shrieked, her eyes full of terror. "Harry, when you had that nightmare, could that have been...?"

"When Voldemort killed the other unicorn," Harry said grimly. "And it's been hurting more all year because he's getting stronger."

"So we don't need to do anything," Ginny said. "When he comes, Harry will know."

"And when he does..."

"We'll tell Dumbledore," Hermione interrupted Harry, giving him a hard look.

"Yeah," Harry agreed grudgingly, tasting bile in his mouth. "We'll tell Dumbledore."

"Anyway, you're all forgetting something," Hermione said. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. As long as he's here, You-Know-Who isn't coming anywhere near the castle."

It was a comforting thought, and Harry held onto it as he lay down in bed. Finding sleep was difficult when you half-expected the man who murdered your parents to attack your school, but in the end, the darkness claimed him.


	17. 17 - The Trapdoor

_"_ _Verdimillious!"_

Magic is all about intent. You have to envision what you want to happen. You've got to feel it. The words, the movements... these things are auxiliary, almost immaterial next to a focused mind.

Harry's wand exploded with concussive force. The spell was all too familiar - the first one he'd ever cast with a wand. It was designed to distract and possibly debilitate an enemy temporarily, used more for the green sparks it produced than its combat effects. In Harry's hands though, the green Shock Jinx became something more... violent.

Blue light arced out of his wand like lightning, snapping out and forking like the tongues of giant snakes before rejoining the main beam, which blasted into the dummy Quirrell had set up for him. The dummy, a scarecrow-like thing of hay and hessian, never stood a chance. At the moment of contact it was blasted back with dizzying speed, but it never hit the back of the classroom. For in the instant after the spell connected, the dummy ignited. It burned brilliantly and quickly, leaving only scattered ashes to remind them of its existence.

"W-w-well d-done, P-P-P-P…" Professor Quirrell stuttered. "F-full marks, I think. And… a d-d-distinction, y-yes."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, smiling grimly.

 _You are a first year student, Potter._

So maybe he was young and untrained. That would change.

He left the classroom, nodding to a worried looking Oliver Rivers, who slipped in past him through the closing door.

"How'd you do, Harry?" Ron asked.

"A little too well," Harry said. "Good luck mate. Catch you later, yeah?"

Just then, Ginny appeared out of a side corridor. Harry waved to her, grinning.

"Wanna go see Hagrid after Ron gets through?" he asked.

"Actually, I'm doing the test too," she said.

"You…" Harry started.

She smiled bashfully. "I realised there was no way to keep it from you once the exams started, but that's why I was helping you revise before. I'm hoping that maybe I can stay in your year."

"Ginny, that's incredible!" Harry grinned. "When did you...?"

"Pff... beginning of the year," she laughed. "Still, I only actually did anything about it in November. Professor McGonagall gave me some spare textbooks and I've spent some time with each of the professors making sure I know everything I need to. They're even letting me do the exams without a wand."

"But I thought Dumbledore said you would start next year?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall saw things my way," said Ginny airily. "She persuaded Professor Dumbledore that it would be easier to keep me in the same form."

Harry rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug. Brushing the hair away from her ear, he whispered, "I don't know what Quirrell's done with the dummy now that I've destroyed it..."

Ginny pulled away, her eyes wide, almost vibrating with excitement. "Verdimillious?"

Harry nodded, smirking. "Reckon you can go one better?" Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I'm going to go find the others. Good luck, Ginny."

Ginny winked at him and fell in line as he headed off to the one place that Hermione was bound to hang out during the exams.

"Ferrum over finery," he said.

The knight in the portrait bowed deeply to him. He truly did seem to live by that philosophy, for his armour was at least half an inch thick and must have weighed as much as the man inside.

"Cover your back, Mr. Potter, for others cannot be counted on to be as honourable as ourselves," he replied. "Speaking of which..."

Harry drew his wand so fast he was surprised it hadn't caught on his robes somewhere.

"Running off so soon, Potty?" Malfoy called. As ever, he was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Haven't you learned to stop bothering us?" Harry asked coolly.

"But Potty, I only want to talk," Malfoy smirked. "You're getting awfully jumpy, you know."

"I wonder why," Harry snarled. His wand was humming in his hand, willing him to let loose. But Harry knew that if he did that now, he'd regret it very much later. "What exactly do we have to talk about, Malfoy?"

"Well, you see, I hear things," Malfoy drawled.

"You should probably go see Madam Pomfrey," said Harry.

"Oh, score one for Potty," Malfoy sneered. "I hear your little girlfriend is trying to stay in your year."

"What of it?" Harry asked.

"Well, thank you for confirming it, at least," said Malfoy. Harry kicked himself mentally for letting it slip, but maintained his stony expression as best he could. "Alone, of course, it means little. A sweet gesture from the gold-digging little whorelet, I'm sure."

Harry snarled, his wand crackling with barely restrained energy.

Malfoy smirked at him. "But I also hear that she's been spending time in your dormitory. I'm sure it's all completely innocent, of course, but imagine what people would think if word were to get out..."

Harry stared at Malfoy. The little bastard had pulled out all the stops.

"I would hate to see you ruined so horrendously, of course," Malfoy went on, "but I've always thought that information should be... _free_."

He was being blackmailed. Harry almost asked Malfoy what he wanted, but he bit his tongue. That was a stupid question. The blackmail would never end if he gave in now. He needed some way to blackmail Malfoy in return, to stalemate him. It was all a game of chess...

"Potty, I really am a very busy man," Malfoy drawled. "I have places to go, and people to see."

Malfoy gave Crabbe and Goyle a look, and they chuckled stupidly.

"The greatest warriors apply their minds, Mr. Potter," the knight said quietly. Harry hadn't noticed the lightning fizzling at the end of his wand.

 _'_ _Malfoy lords it over everyone else because he's a Pureblood, and his dad is rich and powerful,'_ Harry thought. _'His Death Eater dad. That's not a man who'll like weakness, especially not in his only child and heir...'_

"As is your father, isn't that right, Malfoy?" Harry smiled tightly. He was so on edge he thought that he was starting to twitch.

"Of course," Malfoy sneered.

"Wouldn't it be a shame," Harry interjected before Malfoy could continue, "if he were to find out that the scion of his great and powerful house could only manage mediocre results in a school full of... what was it? Muggleborns and blood traitors?"

"What would you know of my results, Potter?" Malfoy retorted. Harry noted that he didn't look quite as happy as he had a minute ago, though.

"Enough that even Snape's favour can't save you," Harry replied. "And it would be truly, truly terrible if he were to find out that Professor Dumbledore told the entire school that you were weak and that we shouldn't bait you because you can't take it."

"What?" Malfoy said flatly. It was more of a statement than a question, really.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" Harry asked. "It was at breakfast, you know, that time when you got covered in food?"

"I remember perfectly well, Potter," Malfoy snarled.

"Well, after you left, Dumbledore said something along the lines of you 'not having the fortitude to cope with practical jokes,'" Harry explained. "I'm sure it's nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you're blood. I'm sure your father will still love you."

Malfoy gave Harry the most venomous glare he thought he'd ever seen from another human being. "This isn't over, Potter," he hissed. "If you so much as..."

"Don't worry, Malfoy," Harry said. "Your secret's safe with me... and all of Hogwarts... including all of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Actually, if I were you I wouldn't feel too comfortable. But you're a Malfoy, right? You'll be fine, I'm sure."

"Fuck you, Potter," Malfoy snarled.

"That's a Muggle curse, Malfoy," Harry frowned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fuck you and your little whore!" he yelled, turning tail and storming off.

"You might have overdone it slightly," the knight advised. "But you did well, Mr. Potter. Remember, the pen is mightier than the sword. This," he raised his massive broadsword with one hand as if it were a toy, "is our last line of defence."

"Thank you, Sir...?" Harry said tentatively.

"That is my secret," the knight said lightly. Harry realised then that he'd never seen the man's face, for he had always kept his visor down. "Fare thee well, Mr. Potter. Fare thee well."

Harry turned right at the secret passages' intersection, taking the path down towards the library. He found a line of fourth years outside Professor Flitwick's classroom, apparently getting ready for their own practical exams.

"Good luck," he called as he passed. He got a few smiles, but most of them just kept muttering amongst themselves.

Heading into the library, he looked up to see that Hermione and Neville were indeed sitting up on the next floor. They were studying. He hurried up to them, glancing quickly at Madam Pince to make sure the muffled sound of his footsteps on the carpet wasn't earning him her ire. She paid him little to no mind though, so he ploughed on.

"Hey," Harry whispered as he came upon them.

They offered him smiles in return, and Neville moved along slightly so that Harry could pull his chair in.

"You guys not going to give yourselves a couple minutes' break?" Harry asked. "We've spent weeks revising this stuff."

"The Potions practical is in two hours," Hermione said patiently. "It's only logical to refresh the memory."

"Hermione, we get given almost all the instructions," Harry grinned. "Are you revising cauldron safety or something?"

"Are we marked on that?!" Hermione hissed, staring open-mouthed at Harry.

"Jesus, Hermione, calm down," Harry whispered. "I don't know, but you're going to hurt yourself if you carry on like this."

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, but then slowly nodded and took a deep breath.

"Look, you're going to do great, okay?" Harry assured her. "You know the stuff back to front, and you've always been good with your wand. The important exams are the OWLs, right?"

"Yes," Hermione allowed, "but that..."

"Sshh," Harry smirked, "let me finish."

Hermione gave him a dark look, but said no more.

"Now, if there's anything you've missed in the course, or your revision, or whatever, it'll show up in your marks," said Harry. "I'll bet my vault that there isn't much you've missed, but you can learn from that and apply it in the OWLs. When the exams are done, go to the professors and ask what you get tested on in the OWLs so you can prepare for it."

"Since when are you so forward-thinking?" Hermione asked.

"Hey, give me some credit," Harry complained. "Oh, I had a run-in with Malfoy a few minutes ago. Let's just say that a portrait gave me some really good advice, and Malfoy probably won't be bothering us for the rest of term."

"Oh, don't tell me you hospitalised him again," Hermione sighed.

"Didn't I just say to give me some credit?" Harry chuckled. "To be fair, if the portrait hadn't calmed me down, I might have done worse."

Hermione and Neville gaped at him.

"Who was it?" Neville asked.

"I don't know," Harry muttered. "He wouldn't tell me his name. But he wore a really massive suit of armour, and he was so strong he could lift a sword as big as me with one hand."

"What did he tell you?" Hermione asked.

"He said that the greatest warriors apply their minds," said Harry. "That the pen is mightier than the sword, and that the sword should be our last line of defense."

"Sounds like your kind of guy, Hermione," Neville grinned.

Hermione blushed slightly, glaring at him.

"Anyway, let's go pick up Ginny and Ron," said Harry. "We can go visit Hagrid. I think it'll be better to go into the exam relaxed."

"Hear, hear," Neville whispered.

"Fine," Hermione replied.

Hagrid was, as always, more than happy to see them.

"'Fraid I ain't got much in the way o' food," Hagrid said in his deep, booming voice as he ushered them in. They all breathed a silent sigh of relief at that. Hagrid's cooking was an acquired taste that humans didn't live quite long enough to get used to. "I'll put the kettle on though. How're the exams coming along?"

"We just had our Defence practical," Hermione said. "I think my casting was fine, but my aim was a little bit off. My Flipendo hit the target off centre and made it spin more than anything else."

"I wouldn' worry about it, Hermione," said Hagrid. "I hear about kids who hit closer to the professor, or turn the dummy into dust!"

Harry smirked at Ginny, who grinned back.

"I took the exam too, actually," Ginny said.

"I heard abou' that," Hagrid smiled. "Professor McGonagall seemed very 'appy abou' yer chances, Ginny."

"But Ginny!" Hermione cried. "Why didn't you mention it? I could've drawn up revision guides for you too!"

"Don't worry, I used Harry's," Ginny grinned.

"By the way, 'Arry," said Hagrid, "I never asked 'ow your detentions went with Professor McGonagall at the weekend."

"It was fine," said Harry.

"Actually, you never did say what happened," Ron pointed out. "Did she have you go work with Filch or something?"

"No, she uh..." Harry faltered. "She had me look over the memorial board."

"Oh," Hagrid said simply, averting his eyes.

"All the names of Hogwarts students who died in the last war," Harry went on. "It's in a little room off the trophy room. She had me write each name a hundred times."

"What did you do on the second day?" Hermione whispered.

"She told me about them," Harry said forlornly.

"Ouch," Ron muttered.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "So, uh, does anyone want some tea?"

An hour passed by in idle conversation, and Harry felt himself slowly unwinding, reassured by the lack of pain from his scar. It was back to the dull itch it had always been at Hogwarts, and that was fine by him.

"So, Harry," Ginny grinned. "Tell us about this Shock Jinx you cast."

"I shouldn't boast," Harry said, blushing slightly.

"No," Hermione agreed, "but you're probably going to anyway."

"Thanks, that means a lot," Harry complained.

"Go on, 'Arry," Hagrid grinned. "What 'appened?"

When he was done, everyone but Ginny was staring at him in disbelief.

"I was right," she said smugly. "It was the exact same curse Harry used on the train."

"Yeah, but it didn't set them on fire!" Ron exclaimed.

"I was holding the wand," Ginny argued. "Probably made it less effective."

"Well, I wonder what your end of year report will say..." Hermione murmured.

"Don't mess with this guy!" Ron laughed.

"I gotta say, Harry, I ain't never 'eard of that spell settin' fire to things like tha'," said Hagrid. "It's supposed ter burn a bit when yer hit by it, but not actually burn yeh!"

"Anyway, we have to head back up to the castle," said Hermione. "We'll be late for our next exam."

"Hermione, none of us are close to the top of the register!" Ron moaned.

"I'm a lot closer than you," Hermione retorted. "Thanks for the tea, Hagrid."

"Yeah, thanks, Hagrid," they all echoed.

"Not a problem," Hagrid beamed. "Pleasure ter have yeh as always. Good luck in yer exams!"

The practical exams veritably flew by. Harry didn't do anything quite as dramatic again, but he was commended by Professor McGonagall for the accuracy of his transfiguration work.

The written exams were more stressful for Harry. He wasn't sure why, because he knew all the content thanks to Hermione's ridiculous revision schedules. Perhaps it was just that they were stuck in there for so long, whereas the practicals had been barely a couple of minutes each. Or maybe it was because by the end of the week, the nightmares Harry had been having of Voldemort pulling back the hood on his cloak to reveal unicorn blood dripping down his chin had become ten times as vivid. He was waking up in the morning feeling like he'd had no rest at all, and that was beginning to grate on his nerves.

As he rolled up his parchment and cast aside the special anti-cheating quill, he couldn't help but cheer with the rest. Maybe now that the exams were over he could have a bit of peace.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass.

"I can't believe I'm still alive," Neville said. Harry almost believed he meant it.

"Relax, Harry," Ginny smiled. "Exams are over, the sun is shining and your scar isn't hurting. Make the most of this."

That's right. His scar hadn't hurt for a while now.

 _The greatest warriors apply their minds, Mr. Potter._

The words of old Ollivander, the man on Diagon Alley who'd sold him his wand, came back to him slowly:

 _After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great._

Two and two were coming together, and fear bloomed in Harry's mind as he anticipated the answer.

Voldemort was evil, true, but to do what he had done had required intelligence and power. He had been the greatest Dark lord in Britain in living memory. Which meant they'd been underestimating him.

He wasn't going to charge in like an angry bull. He'd been biding his time, finding out about the protections on the Stone so that when he attacked it he could do it quickly and quietly.

The first piece of the puzzle was Fluffy. That beast would make a big racket if Voldemort started cursing it, so the first problem would've been finding a stealthy way to subdue him. And the one person who would know how to do that...

"Hagrid," Harry breathed.

"Hmm?" Ginny murmured contentedly.

"Shit!" Harry cursed, jumping to his feet. "Guys, we have to go see Hagrid, now!"

He took off without waiting to see if they were following. From Ron's anguished groan, though, he was pretty sure they were.

"Language, Harry!" Hermione called. "What... is... it?"

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

"It's a set up," Ginny groaned. "You-Know-Who's been picking off the Stone's defenses one by one."

"You're joking," Neville panted.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the five of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah … he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here… He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after … so I told him … an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon … an' then … I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks… Let's see… Yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted … but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home… So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…"

"And did he... did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well, yeah... how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep..."

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out.

"Shouldn't have told _us_?!" Ginny shouted. "That dog was guarding the Philosopher's Stone, and you told a random stranger how to get past it!"

The five of them didn't say another word until they came to a halt in the Entrance Hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry, out of breath after the frantic run across the grounds. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Voldemort or someone working for him under that cloak – it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

"This way," Ginny said, storming up towards the Grand Staircase.

"What are you all doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry grimaced slightly. His scar had just twinged. "Because Lord Voldemort is here to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

The Levitation Charm that had been holding the books aloft abruptly disengaged, and they fell almost to the ground before stopping as suddenly as they'd begun. White lights were swirling around Ginny's hands, and she raised the books back up to where they had been before, albeit not in the same neat piles.

"How do you...?" Professor McGonagall spluttered.

"Professor, that thing in the Forest was Voldemort," Harry said urgently. "That's why Firenze helped you against him. He told me before you got back. The reason why my scar's been hurting is because it's linked to him somehow. It hurts when I get near him. It happened twice in the Forest... and it's happening again now."

Professor McGonagall gaped at him. "Professor Dumbledore received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew for London ten minutes ago."

"No, he received an owl from You-Know-Who," Ginny sighed.

"You-Know-Who is dead!" Professor McGonagall said obstinately. "And the protections on the Stone are far too strong for anyone to get through without us knowing about it!"

"Go and check on it then, if you're so sure," Harry grimaced. He hadn't been lying about his scar. It was burning like a hot brand on his forehead.

"Potter, you do not tell me what to do!" McGonagall said coldly, her nostrils flaring. "Now, I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

They didn't.

"If our Head of House won't believe us, no one will," Neville muttered.

"But what can we...?" Hermione gasped suddenly. They all turned to see Professor Snape standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were..." Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're... _up_ to something."

"Us?" Ginny grinned.

Snape gave her a hard look, then turned to Harry.

"Be warned, Potter – step out of line again and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

They hurried into the nearest secret passageway they could find to avoid any more unwanted encounters.

"We don't have any choice," Harry said grimly. "We need to go down that trapdoor. Now."

The others didn't look happy about it, but they didn't see any alternative either.

"The least we can do is recruit more troops," said Ron. "We're five first years."

"More troops?" Neville asked.

"He's right," Hermione muttered. "This is going to get ugly."

"We also need a way of telling Dumbledore what's going on," Ginny said.

"Well, one of us needs to go write a note to him and give it to Hedwig," said Harry. "But we're running out of time."

"I'll do it," Neville said, looking distraught. "I won't be much help in a fight, not as much as any of you."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said, putting a hand on Neville's shoulder.

"Just don't die," Neville said, before tearing off towards the Owlery.

"Who can we count on for help?" Harry asked.

"Who do we ever?" Ginny asked.

"Fred and George," Ron agreed.

"We wouldn't have time to tell them what's going on," said Harry.

"We'll brief them on the way," Hermione suggested.

"I'll go get the cloak," said Ron.

"Meet us back here in five minutes!" Ginny called as they ran off towards the lake.

When they got to the lake, the twins had finished messing around with the squid, and were now entertaining themselves by covertly jinxing other students. One fourth year girl's robes had taken on a mind of their own, and were slowly rising...

"Fred! George!" Harry called.

"Eh?" Fred replied, breaking his enchantment.

"No time to explain, follow us!" Ginny cried.

"Now, guys..."

"This is a really bad time!" Harry interrupted.

"Hey, where's Lee?" Hermione asked.

"Went to try his luck with Angie," Fred smirked.

"We don't have time for this," Harry snarled, heading back towards the castle.

"Hey, wait up!" one of the twins called after him.

Harry careened through the Entrance Hall and through the tapestry portal into the secret passageway. Ron hadn't gotten back yet, but to be fair, he had a lot of stairs to run up and down even if he used secret passages. The others all came in at once: Ginny, Hermione, Fred, George and Ron.

"Okay, we'll take secret passages up to the third floor, we mustn't be seen," Harry said, leading them through the darkness with a Lumos charm.

"Is that what you wanted us for?" Fred or George scoffed.

"There's a three-headed..."

"Shut up and listen you two," Hermione commanded. "You-Know-Who is infiltrating Hogwarts."

"Have you lot lost your marbles?" one of them laughed.

"You-Know-Who's gone, remember?" the other added.

"I mean, you were all pretty young at the time," Fred or George said in a pompous, Percy-ish tone.

"If you don't shut up and listen to her I'll hex your nuts off," Ginny snarled.

"Fine, fine, regale us with this story."

"You won't remember, but there was a break-in at Gringotts at the beginning of the year," Hermione began.

As they reached the third floor, Harry put an ear to the door-pretending-to-be-a-wall they would be coming out from. Hearing nothing, he took the cloak from Ron.

"So since Harry's scar started hurting about twenty minutes ago..." Hermione trailed off.

"Fuck," George cursed.

"Got to admit..." Fred shrugged.

"That holds together quite well." George finished.

"Well enough, anyway," Fred amended.

"We'll help you," George said grimly. "Although I wish we had some better fighters to go up against You-Know-Who himself."

"You and me both," Harry said. "Can you keep another secret?"

"Sure, why not?" Fred grinned.

"This is an invisibility cloak," he said, shaking it out.

"No fucking way," Fred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up like Christmas had come early.

"I'm going to take us across in two groups," Harry explained. "Us four, then you two. Stay here and I'll be back for you as soon as the coast is clear."

"Got it," George said, eyeing the cloak hungrily.

Harry whipped it over himself, Hermione, Ginny and Ron, checked the corridor outside again, and then hurried out.

"Wicked."

Ignoring the twins, Harry focused on the hallway. Professor McGonagall appeared suddenly at the other end, so they hurried through a doorway, down a connecting corridor and into the forbidden corridor itself. They instantly felt the effects of the first layer of wards, trying to convince them that this was a bad idea and that they had better ways to spend their afternoon. But they weren't to be diverted. Turning towards Fluffy's door, they noticed to their horror that it was hanging ajar.

Hermione sniffed. "I hoped it wasn't true..." she whispered.

"Doesn't matter now," Harry replied. "Hide behind the fire thingies..."

"Braziers," Hermione supplied.

"Doesn't matter," Ron cut across. Hermione glared at him.

"Not now!" Harry hissed. "Just hide!"

He ran back to the secret passage and recovered the twins. Professor McGonagall had disappeared. Praying that she wasn't going to come back around to investigate the forbidden corridor, Harry picked up the pace. The invisibility cloak was only just suitable for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny to run around under, but Fred and George were much bigger, and Harry worried that the hem of the cloak was lifting off the ground when they ran. Still, they had no time to waste, and maybe if a professor followed them they would see that someone had already broken into the Stone's hiding place.

The others were all well hidden behind the braziers when they got to the forbidden corridor. So well hidden were they that Harry forgot which braziers they were hidden behind and had to check to make sure they were still there.

"Come on, let's go," he whispered.

They nodded to show that they understood, and they stormed in through Fluffy's door before anyone could see them.

Just as they'd feared, Fluffy was fast asleep. A harp had been enchanted to play a slow, beautiful melody that was relaxing even them.

"Good thing, too," Harry muttered. "I forgot to bring the flute Hagrid gave me for Christmas."

"Don't worry about that now," Ron whispered. "Let's go before it wakes up."

"Don't just jump down," Fred chastised. "What if there's something down there?"

"Or a really long fall?" George added.

 _'_ _Should've brought my broom too,'_ Harry thought disgustedly. He hadn't thought this through too well after all.

"Let me have a look," Ginny suggested. " _Lumos._ "

Her hand suddenly producing an incredibly bright torchlight, she aimed it down the open trapdoor.

"Since when did you start saying your spells?" Harry asked.

"When I started practising for the exams," Ginny replied quietly, staring down. "It's a soft landing. Some sort of plant."

"Wish Neville was here," Harry muttered. Hermione gave him an indignant look.

"Good thing I found that parchment so quickly then," Neville smiled.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cried.

"Shh," said Hermione.

"How'd you get here without being seen?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I was," Neville admitted. "But I told Professor McGonagall I was just headed up to get my remembrall from my trunk, and she believed me, so..."

"Good job, Nev," Harry grinned. "Can you tell us what's down at the bottom?"

He hurried over to Ginny.

"Can you make the light a little, I don't know, wider?" Neville asked.

"Sure," Ginny grinned.

"Merlin's beard," Neville muttered. "That's Devil's Snare. Lots of it. It doesn't like light, but Ginny's is pretty strong and it's not recoiling from it, so..."

"Time for my party trick then," Harry grimaced.

"But Harry, that's our soft landing right there," Hermione hissed. "If you blast it away, we'll never get down safely."

"Are you a witch or not?" Ron said scathingly.

"I'll conjure some rope," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Do your thing, Harry, whatever it..."

Harry's Verdimillious came out the same bright blue as before, but it was a thicker beam than he remembered. When it hit the violent plant below, there was a momentary sound of sizzling before the whole thing went up in violet flames with a loud _whoosh_.

"Was that seriously...?" George gaped.

"Yes, now let's keep going, we've made an awful lot of noise," said Harry.

George conjured rope like he was pouring it out of his wand. Fred grabbed the end as soon as it appeared, running to tie it around the trapdoor, the door, a pair of braziers outside and finally back over itself.

" _Obhaeris_ ," Fred cast. " _Obhaeris. Obhaeris._ "

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

"Basic Sticking Charm," Fred explained. "Better safe than have a broken neck."

Unable to argue with that logic, Harry grabbed the rope and tested it.

"That should be enough, Harry," said George. "I can see it coiling on the bottom. But if you get into trouble, shout and we'll pull you up."

"See you in a bit," Harry said, jumping down.

The rope seared his hands as he slid down, and he gripped it between his legs as well to take the pressure off. One hand at a time, he grabbed the sleeves of his robes and used them to spare himself from the feeling of having his hands torn apart.

It seemed to take far, far too long to reach the ground, but when he did, he found that there was almost nothing left of the Devil's Snare. "It's safe!" Harry called.

The trapdoor looked tiny, and he could only just make out somebody nodding their head.

"I wonder how Voldemort got down," Harry muttered to himself. If there were alarms on this place, they had most definitely tripped them.

The others came down thick and fast, with three using the rope at any one time. Score for Fred's Sticking Charms.

"Right," said Ginny. "Wands out."

They advanced down a stone passageway, lower and lower below the school.

"We must be a mile down," Hermione said. Harry couldn't tell if that prospect excited or terrified her.

"Can you hear something?" Ron asked.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know… sounds like wings to me," said Ginny speculatively.

"There's light ahead – I can see something moving."

The twins didn't say a word, looking around everywhere with their wands up. Harry felt ten times better knowing they were watching his back.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we go across?" said Ron.

"Probably," Harry said.

"No," Fred interjected.

"This is to slow you down," George explained.

"Look," said Fred.

Across the room was a big, heavy looking door with a big, silver lock.

"Those are _keys_ up there," Ginny gasped.

She was right. The birds weren't just brightly coloured. They were metallic! A whole flock of winged keys.

"One lock, a thousand keys," Neville muttered.

"Flitwick," Fred said grimly.

"For an old duelling champion, this seems a bit..." George trailed off.

"Fanciful?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, fanciful," George agreed.

"Well, we're looking for one with crumpled wings," said Ron. "And it'll probably match the lock."

"Doubtful, little bro," said Fred.

"That'd be too easy," George grimaced.

"He'll be trying to trick you," Fred explained.

"What if it's a double bluff?" Hermione asked.

"Possible," Fred admitted.

"Worth a try, right?" said Harry.

"Not if trying sets off some trap," Ginny replied.

"Hey, look," Harry grinned. "Broomsticks!"

There was an assortment of broomsticks lying against the wall.

"Excellent!" Fred enthused.

"Best news all day," said George.

They all headed over to examine the gifts.

"We've got a Comet 250 here," George grinned. "Good luck catching something on this."

"D'you think the professors would fly around on brooms looking for the key?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, we don't know squat about how to take down proper wards," George grimaced.

"And Bill is a thousand miles away," said Fred.

"Unless we're going to try asking the teachers for help again, we'd better fly," said Harry. "Now, I'll go up with Fred and George, you guys stay down here and make sure nothing dodgy happens."

"You don't know what you're looking for!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Sure we do," Harry grinned. "Big silver key. If that doesn't work... Well, it'll work."

"Oh, get back, the lot of you," Ginny sighed.

"Ginny?" Harry said uncertainly.

She didn't even look at him. Instead, she walked over to the door and placed her hand on it.

Her hand began to glow, and Harry raised his wand, watching the keys, the brooms, even the walls in his worry for her.

There was a sudden _click_.

"Run," said Ginny.

There was something in her voice that made them obey instantly. Fred picked Ginny up bodily and carried her through the doorway while Harry slammed the door behind them. There were countless deafening thuds as the keys, which had been idly fluttering around just seconds before, slammed into the door as if they'd been shot out of rifles.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. Ginny was clearly exhausted as Fred laid her down gently to the side, resting her back against the wall.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Harry asked.

She nodded and smiled up at him. "Couldn't sit around waiting for you to try all those bloody keys, could I?" Her voice was strong, and Harry felt a great deal better to hear it.

"What did you do?" said Hermione.

"I'm not entirely sure," Ginny frowned. "I was planning on just finding some way of blasting the lock, but when I put my hand against the door I could feel all the enchantments on it. So I got rid of the one holding the door shut and then just levitated the lock open."

"That's incredible," Neville praised.

Ginny blushed slightly. "It was stupid, really, but it was all I could think of to do. We're just lucky it worked."

They waited a couple of minutes for Ginny to regain her strength before moving on. But as they stepped into the new chamber, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. A chill ran down Harry's spine when he noticed that none of the white pieces had any faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"That or fight our way across," said Fred.

"Don't like our chances though," George grimaced.

"So... How do we play with a giant set?" asked Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we... err... have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to face them.

"I don't see the point here," Ginny frowned. "Why are they testing the thief's ability at chess? I thought they're supposed to be protecting the Stone, not giving it to the most worthy challenger!"

"I..." Hermione began, but she seemed to be at a loss too.

Harry raised his wand for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "This must be a trap, then."

Ron jumped away from the knight. However, nothing at all happened.

"Come to think of it," said Fred.

"Everything in here's been a bit..." George continued.

"Easy?" Hermione ventured.

"Yeah," said Neville. "Even if Harry hadn't blasted the Devil's Snare, you've just got to stay still and it'll leave you well alone."

"Considering how quickly Ginny got through that door," said Fred.

"It can't have been a spectacular bit of warding," George finished.

"You know, there's wards out there like the Fidelius that can make a place impossible to find unless you're told where it is," Ginny mused.

"So why weren't they used?" Harry asked.

"False sense of security maybe," said Hermione.

"Yeah, maybe there's something really nasty at the end," Ron grimaced.

"Well, let's take our places then," Fred said with mock-eagerness.

"Guys, don't be offended or anything," said Ron, "but none of you are that good at chess."

"Hey, I've beaten you a few times," Ginny protested.

"How many times have I beaten you, Ginny?" Ron asked.

Ginny pouted at him, but let it go.

"Just tell us what to do," said Harry.

"To be honest," Ron said, wincing, "I don't think I can keep everyone safe if we all go on the board."

They'd all played wizarding chess before. It was possibly the most brutal board game Harry had ever seen. The pieces would literally smash the pieces they took, and they had to be magically repaired for the next game.

Ron turned back to the knight. "If only some of us play, can all of us still go across?" Ron asked.

The knight shook his head.

"Only the people who win the game themselves can cross?" Ron asked.

The knight nodded.

"Bloody _hell_!" Ron cursed. "Okay, look, the one person I can guarantee safety to is the king, because if he's gone then we're all gone. So who do we need to get to the end of this?"

"What are we even going to do at the end of this?" Neville muttered.

"Duel You-Know-Who, I guess," said Fred.

"He's probably weak," said Hermione. "He's living off unicorn blood, and he's clearly not strong enough to call on his followers."

"So instead of 'we're going to die today', this is 'we'll probably die today'?" Neville asked.

"Pretty much," said Harry.

"Okay, Harry, you're the king," said Ron. "You're the only one here who has a hope of surviving a fight with You-Know-Who, so you've got to get through."

The king bowed to Harry and walked off the board.

"Fred? George? You're rooks," said Ron. "Ginny and Hermione will be the rook pawns and me and Neville will be knights."

"Ron, I trust you on this," said Hermione shakily, as the corresponding pieces left the board. "But why are we pawns?"

"Because those pawns are least likely to be taken," Ron said dully. "At least the way I play."

They took their stations, and white began to play immediately, with a pawn to e4.

Ron took a slow, shaky breath, and began to give directions.

Everything went quite smoothly until they lost their first piece. A pawn fell victim to a white bishop, who smashed it so hard that a flying fragment almost caught Harry in the head. He could feel Ginny's fear blooming, and he gritted his teeth lest they both be overwhelmed.

Neville took revenge for the pawn, firing off a Knockback Jinx that took its head clean off. He stared at his wand, and they all stared at him. They knew he wasn't strong enough to do something like that. There must have been an enchantment in place. But if that was the case, what would happen to _them_ if they were taken?

Five minutes later, the chessboard was covered with fragments. There were a lot more white casualties than black, and none of them human, but Ron looked distressed.

"I think..." he began. "I think I need to sacrifice myself."

"NO!" they all cried.

He shook his head. "I could play delaying tactics, but we'd risk stalemate, and we don't know what that means."

"Ron, you might die," said Harry miserably. He knew what was at stake, but now that he was faced with it...

"Look, there was no way I could protect seven pieces for the whole game," Ron said furiously. "Now when I'm taken, you've all got to keep playing. If you leave your squares, we might forfeit."

"Hey Ron," said Fred.

"Yeah?" Ron asked.

"I..." Fred tried, but he seemed to run out of words.

"Good luck," said George.

"I love you, Ron," Ginny said. "Don't die."

"I'll do my best," Ron grimaced. "When I go down, you take over, Ginny."

She nodded jerkily.

"Knight to e2," he called, letting loose with a vicious flurry of jinxes. The pawn smashed into dust. "Check!"

There was a nasty grinding sound of stone on stone as the bishop on c4 turned towards Ron. Ginny hid her face in her hands. Harry's knuckles were turning white on the hilt of his sword. He was powerless to help his friend as the bishop advanced. Ron's knees buckled as the giant chess piece stopped in front of him, staring at nothing.

The bishop raised its staff high, and Ron closed his eyes. Even from halfway across the board, Harry could see the pain on Ron's face.

The staff came down like a battering ram.

"NO!" Hermione screamed. Fred stumbled forwards but caught himself before he could leave his square.

Ron slumped to the ground, white and golden lights dancing around his body.

"It didn't hit him," Harry muttered.

He stared at the bishop. The staff had only just entered Ron's square. There was about half a metre between the end of the staff and the place Ron had stood. The bishop drew its weapon back stiffly, and rotated to face the black end of the board.

"It didn't hit him!" Harry announced.

"What?" Ginny looked at him desperately.

"Why isn't he moving then?" Hermione sniffed.

"Those lights..." Neville said softly.

"There are wards here!" George yelled triumphantly.

"They saw he was human..." said Fred.

"And protected him," Ginny finished, a tear falling from her chin and splattering on the stone at her feet.

Harry stared at Ron's crumpled form as it rose up and floated to the side of the board. He'd been willing to give up his life to save the rest of them.

"Ginny," he said, with a hard steel in his voice that he hadn't been expecting. She turned to him with a matching, grim expression, as if expecting his next words. "Let's end this."

She nodded, turning back to the game.

"Queen to f2," she announced. The queen fairly raced across the board, her quarterstaff spinning to either side of her before smashing down through the hapless pawn's skull. "Checkmate."

The white king fell to his knees in defeat. Raising her quarterstaff one final time, the queen swung it right through her target's neck, sending the head flying against the wall, where it smashed into rubble. The body keeled over, breaking into larger pieces on the board.

"Ron!" Ginny cried, sprinting over to where he lay.

"He's breathing," Fred said breathlessly, "He's breathing."

Harry couldn't think what to say. He just stared.

"His pulse seems a bit weak, but other than that..." Hermione trailed off.

"When's he going to wake up?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said helplessly. "I did basic first aid, I'm not a doctor."

"I'll take him back to the hospital wing," said Fred firmly.

"Right," said George, "I'll keep this lot in one piece."

Fred hefted Ron over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"What if the keys attack you?" Neville called.

"They must've reset after You-Know-Who came through," George reasoned. "So they probably reset after we did too."

That seemed to reassure Neville, and they made their way tentatively through to the next chamber.

Harry stumbled backwards, covering his nose with his left hand as he threw up his wand.

"Poison gas!" he called. "Get back!"

"I… don't think so, Harry," said George.

"What is that?" Neville coughed.

"Let's go have a look," Ginny said quietly.

Her eyes began to glow with a golden light, and wisps of golden aether began to glow around her hands. However, as she raised them, George grabbed her arm.

"I've got this one," he said firmly. "Relax, Ginny."

Ginny stared up at him, the light fading slowly. Harry was initially surprised that she wasn't more defiant, but then he realised - the twins were never this serious, at school or at the Burrow.

" _Contia Calixan_ ," George muttered. " _Wingardium Leviosa_. _Aguamenti_."

The water splashed, clean and clear, into the still-forming goblet floating in front of Ginny.

"Aguamenti? You haven't studied that yet," Hermione said, surprised.

"How'd you know?" George grinned.

Hermione blushed. "I've read the set books up to your year, you haven't covered it."

"You think me and Fred learn all our tricks in class?" he asked, winking. He turned back to Ginny before Hermione could reply. "If you want to help, drink this, rest up a bit."

She took the glass and drank. Slowly at first, she was soon gulping it down as though she hadn't touched a drop in a week. George turned back towards the hazy chamber beyond, raising his wand.

" _Ventus_ ," he cast.

For a moment, it seemed like nothing was happening, but then Harry felt the breeze cooling his face and ruffling his hair as it grew stronger.

" _Ventus_ ," Hermione tried, raising her own wand.

"Try giving it a bit more of a flick at the end," said George calmly, even though his wand was now bucking in his hands as he drove the now significant wind through the entryway.

" _Ventus_!" Hermione commanded, her wand flying through a tight helical motion before flicking down to point at the doorway.

The response was immediate.

Her bushy brown hair, which had already been dancing in Fred's breeze, was thrown about her head like a wild thing. Harry felt his robes pick up, billowing out behind him and pulling him backwards towards the foul-smelling chamber beyond. Smaller bits of debris from the chessboard were flying past them into the other chamber, pelting them occasionally like demented hailstones.

"Good job, Hermione," he smiled.

"It was a breeze," Hermione deadpanned.

George stared at her for a moment. For five seconds, the only sound in the chamber was the rushing of the wind that was now lifting Harry almost off his feet. A smile spread slowly across his face, mischievous by his nature, but grateful. He lowered his wand, and the wind died down slightly.

"Merlin's..." Neville began.

"Aw hell," George groaned.

Harry said nothing. Without the haze and stink of the noxious gas it was producing, they could quite clearly make out the massive corpse on the floor of the next chamber. It was a troll.

And at the same time, it wasn't, for all identifying features had rotted away, leaving only its smell and size to remind them of what had once stood here.

"How long do you think it's been here?" Harry asked.

"The whole year?" Neville muttered. "Did they even feed it?"

"Guess not," said Harry.

"It's been here about half an hour," said Ginny. "Stay back!"

It took Harry a minute to figure out what she meant. The beast, which must have been half again as large as the one they'd saved Hermione from, was still moving. No, not moving ... changing. The blackened flesh was disappearing before their eyes.

"Of course," Hermione muttered. "A Corruption Curse. That's why it smells so bad! It's rotting much faster than usual!"

That mystery solved, they hurried on to the next room to find no apparent threat at all. The only thing in the cavernous chamber was a chairless table with seven potion phials on it.

"Snape," Harry snarled. "This is all going to be poison, let's just move on."

But the moment the words left his lips, great fires sprung up at the entrance and exit, blocking their path.

"Harry, it's a riddle!" Hermione gushed.

"I'm with Harry here," George shrugged. "He'd love the idea that someone jumped through all his hoops and died anyway."

"Would you rather try walking through the fire?" Neville asked.

Ginny reached a hand into the black flames at the entrance to the next room. They were so tall and thick, they formed a nearly solid wall. She gasped when she made contact, drawing her hand back. And yet, Harry felt no pain from her.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I don't think I can go through," she said quietly. "I can resist the heat, but... It's like the fire is rejecting me."

"Hermione..." Harry sighed.

"I'm working on it," she said, her lips twitching slightly from her pained grimace. "Shh."

Harry sat and stared into the flames. He'd almost lost one of his dearest friends to this mission. Fred must have gotten to the hospital by now, if he hadn't run into a professor already. So where was their backup? Why weren't the Hogwarts staff storming down here after them?

 ** _'_** ** _Hey,'_** Ginny thought to him. **_'I'm scared too, but we have to do this.'_**

Light poured out of her eyes in a labouring cascade of orange-red pixie dust, and the occasional flame licked its way up a delicate hand.

A thousand thoughts raced through Harry's mind, but he couldn't find a way to express how he felt just then, even with their intimate bond. Instead, he kissed her; it was gentle and brief, but it filled his heart with courage. His wand shot into his hand from where it had been resting on the ground, sparking and spitting like a severed cable.

"I've found the one to go forwards," Hermione called. She didn't seem all that pleased.

Harry stood to face her. She was holding up a tiny crystal phial. It might've held a mouthful of potion.

"I'll go through," Harry said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Everyone protested loudly, but it was Ginny who grabbed his attention. She didn't say a word. She simply walked over to Hermione and wrested the potion from her grip. Harry ran to intercept, but she already had the potion at her lips. Horrified, Harry tore the phial from her hands only to see her swallow.

"If you thought you were going through without me," she said, glaring murderously, "you were sorely mistaken."

"Ginny, this isn't a game!" Harry cried. "You could die!"

"So could you!" she yelled back. "You think it'll help if he kills you first? He'll come out here and wipe us all out!"

"Ginny..."

"Drink, Potter," she said. "I'm not doing this without you."

Harry stared at the phial. It still had some potion in it.

"Look, that thing probably refills itself," George interrupted. "You-Know-Who had to drink it, didn't he?"

"Yeah, you guys go in first, and we'll follow after," Hermione promised.

George's expression was becoming more strained by the second. "Look, Harry, you better look after her, okay?"

"I can take care of myself!" Ginny protested. "I'll be looking after _him_!"

"Probably true," Hermione said, though she wasn't smiling.

"Kick his arse, guys," Neville said softly. It was only then that Harry noticed he was crying.

"Neville..." Harry murmured.

"Look, you guys know what I was like at the start of the year," Neville started, but then he shook his head. "I... I don't know if I could deal with it if you guys didn't come out of there."

"Oh, Nev," Ginny crooned, running over and wrapping him in a tight hug.

Neville returned it for a few seconds, but then pushed her away and wiped at his eyes roughly. "You need to go. You-Know-Who could have the Elixir of Life cooked up any second."

Harry nodded to him solemnly, and drank the potion. It felt like standing inside a ghost — ice was flooding every part of his body. He passed the phial to George, who returned it to its place on the table.

They walked through the flames together. For a few seconds, they saw nothing but the shifting blackness. Then they broke out into the final chamber, untouched and unruffled.

On the other side, the final chamber was a square room, divided into an inner and outer section by a square perimeter of ionic columns. At the centre of the inner section stood an object Harry had hoped never to see again. A man stood staring back at them through the Mirror of Erised, but it was not the Dark Lord Voldemort.


	18. 18 - The Man With Two Faces

"You!" Harry thundered.

"Me," Quirrell agreed, smiling. He showed not the barest hint of a stutter. He didn't even twitch. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"I've got to admit," Ginny muttered, "I wasn't expecting this."

"Why would you, idiot girl?" Quirrell laughed. "It was perfect. Snape swooping around like an overgrown bat drawing everyone's ire, who would suspect p-poor, st-st-stuttering Professor Q-Quirrell?"

"It was you," Ginny said slowly, softly. She looked traumatized, staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed at the man they had hoped to support through the trial of standing up to Professor Snape. "You were the one cursing Harry's broom!"

"Of course," Quirrell scowled. "I underestimated your abilities. I won't do so again."

Harry turned back to Ginny to see that she was still staring at Quirrell. But something was wrong. She wasn't moving. At all.

"You, on the other hand," Quirrell sneered, "I have a perfect measure of. More raw power than you know what to do with, and no discipline to control it. The rage is building in you. You want to lash out at me. It's all too predictable."

"Why are you helping Voldemort?!" Harry yelled. He _was_ angry, there was no denying it. Ginny's panic was flowing copiously through to him, fuelling his rage. And Quirrell's ability to read him was incensing him even further.

"There it is," Quirrell said wearily. "You're far too nosy for your own good, Potter. It's a pity my troll didn't squash you on Halloween."

" _Your_ troll?" Harry snarled. That thing had nearly killed Hermione.

"Certainly," Quirrell smiled. "I've always had a certain _affinity_ with trolls."

Harry's blood was boiling. Lightning was fizzling at his wand-tip.

"Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape headed me off at the third-floor corridor," Quirrell went on. "Don't you think it funny just how much you've misjudged him? No? What if I told you that he was muttering the counter-curse that day on the Quidditch pitch, and that's the singular reason why you're still holding on to your pathetic hide? That he oversaw your following game to _protect_ you? Oh how your father would turn in his grave."

" _What_ about my father?" Harry growled. The fizzling was getting more intense. He could feel it in his hands.

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprung out of thin air, binding Harry tightly. Looking down, Harry noticed that it wasn't his wand that was fizzling. He was.

"Be quiet now, Potter, I need to examine this mirror..." Quirrell said, turning away.

Harry turned his wrists, gripping the ropes and focusing on his anger. The lightning that had been dancing at his fingertips surged, blackening the rope. Harry yelled, fury overwhelming his mind, and tore free of the ropes, charging at Quirrell.

"I said QUIET!" Quirrell roared, bringing his wand to bear on Harry. But a silvery shield sprang up in front of him, reflecting the spell at the young professor and blasting him off his feet.

"I thought you said you were done underestimating me?" Ginny said. Her whole body was shimmering with flames, and orange sparks flew from her eyes as she glared at him.

Quirrell didn't have time to twitch before an invisible fist slammed into his midriff, guided by Ginny's own. He coughed, but there was no visible impact.

"You are becoming more than a mere irritation," Quirrell warned. Harry found himself floating up into the air, completely incapable of controlling his body.

 _The greatest warriors apply their minds._

His thoughts were still his own. He had that much. All he could see was the high, stone ceiling. But he could still hear Quirrell. And the others were coming.

"I don't understand... Is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's wand fell from his limp hand and clattered on the floor. Rage had freed him last time, but he found that he could no longer summon any. Now, he reached out to Ginny through their bond. He could feel her anger and fear. He delved deeper, and found only one thought.

 ** _'_** ** _Burn.'_**

 _Whoosh._

He knew that Ginny had burst into flame again, but it seemed that Quirrell wasn't paying any attention.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

To Harry's horror, a voice responded from within the room, somewhere very close to Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy..." the voice rasped. "Use the boy..."

Harry felt himself fall, and hit the ground in a heap, grunting at the pain of impact. He was grabbed by the collar and tugged forwards towards the mirror.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see," Quirrell commanded.

"I see myself tearing your head off your shoulders," Harry spat, refusing to even glance at the mirror. "Where's Voldemort? I heard the cowardly bastard. He's in here somewhere."

The blow stung, almost bringing tears to his eyes. "Speak of the Dark Lord in that way again and you will lose _your_ head. Understood?"

The high, rasping voice came once again from very close by, laughing. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have said it was coming from Quirrell himself. "Potter, you've a lot of nerve."

"You're a lot of talk," Harry retorted. "Why don't you come out and face me, you spineless wretch?"

"Why not indeed," Voldemort agreed. "It is proper to look your foe in the eyes before you take their life. I should know. Quirrell, let me speak to him… face to face."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough… for this…" Voldemort rasped.

Quirrell began to unwrap his turban, of all things. Harry stared, transfixed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ginny, burning like a torch, flex her hand. Quirrell turned.

Harry's eyes went wide in terror. For there was no back to Quirrell's head. Instead, there was a face. It was a face that he almost recognised. Staring out of the back of Quirrell's head was a thing that looked like him, or at least, the Harry from the Mirror all those months ago. Fiery red eyes glared at him through slitted pupils; the skin was waxy, with slits for nostrils and an apparent lack of lips; it was almost like a snake.

"Harry Potter…" it whispered.

Harry's wand sprang into his hand, but he didn't move to attack. He could only stare at this vision of horror.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

"What stone?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I think he means _this_ stone," Ginny said, holding it aloft.

"I don't think he'll get it though," George grinned, walking out from behind a column. "Fred'll have a fit when he hears about this. Hiding under Quirrell's turban? Could you feel it, mate? When we were bouncing snowballs off your face?"

"He'll sure as hell feel it when we bounce his face off the floor," Neville added.

"What's this, Potter?" Voldemort said, sounding more amused than anything else. "Have you brought an army of children to fight me?"

"No," Hermione cut in. "Harry's here to fight you."

"We're here to kill you for what you did to him," Ginny spat.

"Kill them all, Quirrell," Voldemort snarled.

" _Avada_..." Quirrell began. He wasn't fast enough.

Ginny's telekinetic fist threw him into the Mirror so hard that the great thing rocked, almost to the point of falling. Quirrell snarled, giving up on the Killing Curse and simply flicking his wand here and there, blasting them, or conjuring beasts to attack them.

Harry just saw Neville's shin bone burst out of his leg before he found a bear charging right at him. In the next moment, it was thrown aside, presumably by Ginny, leaving his path to Voldemort/Quirrell clear.

" _Verdimillious_!" he cast.

Time had been slowing even without him realising, and he watched the beam form. Swirling aether gathered about his wand-tip, a glow building faster and faster. It was a pure white at first, but as it built the outside seemed to stain blue, like ink being dropped into a glass of water. The beam burst from his wand without the slightest warning, a solid core of death.

Quirrell batted it aside with a flick of his wand, but had no time to evade Harry. Turning his shoulder into a battering ram, Harry smashed Quirrell back into the Mirror. He wouldn't allow the man to attack his friends. He couldn't. Lightning was once again sparking between his fingers, and Harry called instinctively on memories of Dudley beating him up. As Quirrell recovered from the blow, Harry turned and delivered a devastating right hook to his chin, making his head bounce off the Mirror like a tennis ball, into Harry's waiting left fist. Kicking savagely at the inside of Quirrell's knee, Harry was about to finish Quirrell with a Verdimillious to the face when he found himself thrown backwards by some curse.

When he got to his feet, he was fine, but Quirrell certainly wasn't. His face had been burned by Harry's lightning. But it was more than that. He was clutching at his head and screaming.

"KILL THEM!" Voldemort shrieked. "KILL THEM ALL!"

"Master, it burns!" Quirrell gasped.

"Then kill them, fool, and be done!" Voldemort screeched.

Harry didn't notice how peaceful the chamber had been until Quirrell attacked once more. He was casting spells so quickly that Harry couldn't keep track of everything that was happening.

Neville was lying on the ground now, reduced to firing off the odd Flipendo to keep summoned creatures away. George was using the columns for cover, picking off Quirrell's support or taking potshots at the man himself. Hermione, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny was even wilder now than she had been before. Ablaze with magical plasma, she literally tore through the oncoming enemies, raking a hand through a saber-toothed tiger to turn it into a cloud of ash and charred bones and teeth.

"Is this all you have?" Voldemort sneered. "Parlour tricks and classroom jinxes?"

The ground under Quirrell exploded, blinding Harry with dust and flying debris.

When it cleared, Hermione was standing there, shaking, hurling the rubble around. Where Quirrell had stood were now several large parts of the ceiling, sitting in the craters they'd made as they fell.

There was a rushing sound, and unimaginable pain ripped through Harry. He looked down to see that a hole had been blasted through his chest. He could feel air chilling parts of him it should never touch. Quirrell was behind him, cursing everything in sight while Voldemort cackled with glee.

Harry's fear turned into blind rage. He couldn't hear the screaming or the laughing, nor could he smell the burned flesh beneath his nose. He could only see... see Quirrell, and the path that he would take to get to him. Ginny got there first. Flaming so brightly and voluminously that Harry could no longer see her within the inferno, she was physically grappling with this man who was nearly twice her size. It should have been a very one-sided brawl, but Ginny's fire seemed to have the same effect as Harry's lightning.

The sparks started once more, and Harry knew somehow that this would be the last time. He approached Voldemort, staggering with the pain of his evisceration. He could hardly breathe, and every breath he took was shallower, more painful. Voldemort was glaring at him hatefully, the red eyes full of a very personal malice.

Harry grabbed onto Voldemort's face, pulling at it with the last of his strength.

"Nnnghh-aaaAAARRRGGHHHH!" Voldemort screamed, his face blistering and blackening and tearing away from Quirrell's skull.

" _Reducto_ ," George called.

There was no way for Quirrell to evade. Tormented by Ginny and Harry's touch, he struggled feebly, but could do nothing as much of his midriff was reduced to a fine mist, separating his spine into two parts, and leaving the open aorta to discard his lifeblood violently into the air. Quirrell slid down slowly, Voldemort's features fading from the back of his head as he slumped to the ground, quite clearly finished. Harry imagined he heard the feared Dark Lord shrieking as Harry also fell, collapsing down onto his knees before Ginny could grab him, laying him down gently on the cold stone floor. He was so very cold...

"Harry!" Ginny screamed. **_'Stay with me, Harry, please. We'll get you to the hospital. Madam Pomfrey can...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Shh,'_** Harry interrupted. **_'It's over now.'_**

"Out of the way," a voice said commandingly.

"Heal him," Ginny ordered. "I'm going to hurt you so badly for what happened here, but first..."

Ginny's words were lost to Harry as the darkness claimed him.

* * *

"Ungh." Harry groaned as he awoke. He felt as if he were being crushed under an elephant. Not for the first time, he opened his eyes to white ceiling, white bedspread, and red hair.

"Shh," Ginny whispered, easing his glasses onto his face. "You've been out for an hour or so."

"How's Neville?" Harry asked.

"He's okay," Ginny winced. "Madam Pomfrey put his bones back in place, but he won't be walking normally for another week at least."

Harry knew from her tone that something else was bothering her. "Ron?"

"He hasn't woken up yet," Ginny sniffed. "Professor McGonagall said that the curse on the chessboard was designed to knock someone out for at least a day, but it was designed for a powerful Dark wizard, not a twelve year old boy..."

"He'll be okay, Ginny," Harry reassured her. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she stared at him, biting her lip.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said as he burst in. "Are you okay? Madam Pomfrey didn't tell us much."

"Professor Dumbledore put phoenix tears in the wound," Ginny whispered. "Oh gods, it was so _big_!"

Harry lifted the bedsheet, but his chest was entirely unblemished.

"Phoenix tears heal completely, Harry," Dad said absently, staring at Harry's chest.

"I could have put my hand right through," Ginny went on. Her face was pale as freshly fallen snow, making her freckles stand out like ink spattered over a page.

"Ginny, I'm fine, and Voldemort's gone," Harry said softly.

"But it's all Dumbledore's fault!" Ginny growled. "Him and the other professors!"

"Now, Ginny, that might be a little harsh," Mr. Weasley said placatingly.

"What?!" Ginny shrieked. "How can you be defending them?"

"You didn't have to go down there, Ginny," Mr. Weasley pointed out.

"Would you rather have seen Voldemort rise again?" Ginny accused.

"Don't say the name," Mr. Weasley reprimanded.

"I just beat him within an inch of his life," Ginny hissed. "No thanks to the professors, who didn't even bother to have a look when we told them what was going on!"

"Don't you think it's a little suspicious that a few kids were able to find the Stone?" Harry asked.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Mrs Weasley called outside.

"Well, yes, that is rather odd," Mr. Weasley frowned.

"And that a handful of students could breach the defences and actually get a hold of the Stone?" Ginny pressed.

"Wait, start again, I missed a lot of this story," Mr. Weasley said, scratching his head. "You found out about the Stone when?"

The story took a little while to tell, but by then Mr. Weasley was completely incensed.

"And even after encountering him in the Forbidden Forest drinking _unicorn blood_ of all things, they didn't post a member of staff to guard the place?"

Professor Dumbledore walked in then.

"It was a test, wasn't it, sir?" Harry asked. "This whole thing."

"A test, my boy?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "Surely you don't think I can summon Lord Voldemort at a whim to challenge you?"

"I don't mean him," Harry replied. "I mean the protections on the Stone. The only one that could possibly have stopped him was the Mirror, and you know it."

"Now, my boy, I assure you, those protections were the very best we could offer..."

"What about a Fidelius?" Ginny asked. Harry could tell how hard she was working not to scream at the headmaster. "Or a blood ward? Why a chess game, professor?"

"The professors had their reasons for their individual barriers," Dumbledore said dismissively. "I chose the Mirror because I knew that no-one who was there for selfish reasons could hope to claim the Stone from it. One of my better ideas, if I may say so myself..."

"You've certainly had a lot of poor ones, Professor Dumbledore," Mr. Weasley said. "What were you thinking, putting that thing in the middle of Hogwarts? Two of my children came within inches of death today because of your whimsy."

"Now I don't think it was quite so serious as all that, Arthur," Professor Dumbledore said soothingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, professor," Ginny said bitingly. "Did you not notice the size of the hole you were pouring phoenix tears into? Personally, I could see his heart beating, but I'm sure he'd have been fine if you hadn't turned up just in time."

"Miss Ginevra Weasley!" Professor McGonagall cried. "How dare you speak to the headmaster in that manner?"

"I'll never forgive you for this," Harry said.

She looked at him for a moment, and her expression changed, turning anxious and sorrowful.

Suddenly, she went unnaturally still. Bile rose in Harry's throat as he realised that he too was frozen. The sensation was frighteningly familiar. Quirrell had put him under this very spell in the Mirror Room. His mind rebelled at the idea of not having control of his body; the panic was stifling.

" _Obliviate_ ," Professor Dumbledore cast. " _Obliviate. Obliviate._ "

"Professor, what are you _doing_?" Harry asked, horrified, as first Ginny, then Professor McGonagall and Dad fell like marionettes with their strings cut.

"For the greater good, my boy," he said gravely. "Perhaps you will understand, when you are older. _Obliviate._ "

* * *

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell!"

"Ah yes, an admirable bit of work there on your part," said Dumbledore. "Thanks to the efforts of yourself and your friends, Quirinus Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"What about Ron? He-"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out. Mr. Weasley is just over there, and if you are not careful you will wake him."

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He was back in the hospital wing. Ron was across the room and one bed along, sleeping like a log, and next to both him and Harry were tables piled high with what looked like half of a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your brothers, Fred and George Weasley, were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you both. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Thirty hours. Mr. Neville Longbottom, Miss Hermione Granger, Misters Fred and George Weasley, and of course Miss Ginevra Weasley will be most relieved you have come round. They have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone –"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well... the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from Miss Weasley. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Neville's message?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to save you."

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, we couldn't have kept him from the Stone much longer —"

"Not the Stone, boy, you – the blood loss alone nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend – Nicolas Flamel..."

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all. The trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking… Sir, even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who..."

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me… things I want to know the truth about…"

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Why did Voldemort try to kill me?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.

"Why did it hurt Quirrell so much for me or Ginny to touch him?"

"I'm afraid that I am not quite sure, my boy. Perhaps someday the truth in that will reveal itself to all of us."

Harry frowned. Dumbledore wasn't being very forthcoming, regardless of what he'd said. "And the invisibility cloak – do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah – your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things … your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else…"

"Fire away."

"Over the year, people have let a few things slip about Snape..."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him – people keep mentioning things about him not getting on with my father. What actually happened?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

" _What?_ "

"Yes…" said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt… I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace…"

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing…"

"Just the one?"

"How did Ginny get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

He said his goodbyes then and left Harry to enjoy some of his sweets.

"Harry?" Ron moaned. "That you?"

"Yeah, you alright?" Harry asked, forgetting the sweets entirely.

"I think so," Ron replied, "but everything's kinda blurry."

Madam Pomfrey hurried in with a tray of potion phials.

Harry's memory tripped, and he saw a table of phials. Ginny drinking a black potion from a crystal phial that almost disappeared in her hand when she held it, it was so small. A massive, black fire...

"Drink up, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, gentle and firm at the same time.

"Ugh, that's vile," Ron complained.

"You took some nasty damage from that ward," Madam Pomfrey admonished. "You need help to recover from it."

"He'll be okay though, right?" Harry asked. He felt a bit guilty about how much his friends had been hurt following down that trapdoor.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said with a wry smile. "If you can survive a four inch hole through your chest, I'm sure Mr. Weasley here has nothing to worry about."

"Four inches?" Harry gaped. He stared at his unblemished abdomen.

Again his memory jogged, and he saw Voldemort snarling on the back of Quirrell's head.

"I advise you to rest while you can, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey. "Professor Dumbledore saw fit to allow you to play in the Quidditch match tomorrow."

"That's tomorrow?" Harry groaned. Wood would be doing his nut.

"Your parents are likely to arrive shortly, though, so try not to go to sleep just yet," Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Boys!" Mum cried, running to Ron and embracing him tightly, kissing him on top of the head, before giving Harry the same treatment.

Madam Pomfrey hurried out to give them some privacy, while Dad stood by the doors, simply watching and smiling.

"Don't you ever do something so foolish again, do you hear?" Mum cried. "My poor, wonderful, heroic boys. Professor Dumbledore told me all about what happened down under the school."

Harry and Ron shared a look. Neither was sure whether they were in trouble or about to receive praise.

"I'm glad you didn't let him go in alone, Ron," said Mrs Weasley. "But this is the kind of thing the professors should be handling, not you. Gods, I'm just so happy you're all alive."

Harry felt something nagging at the back of his head, like there was something he ought to remember...

"Everyone else is outside," Dad smiled. "As well as a very large crowd of well-wishers."

"Oh dear, do make sure there's no trouble, Arthur," said Mum, feeling Ron's forehead.

"They're fine," Dad assured her. "Fred, George and Ginny are keeping them entertained."

 _'Ginny...'_ Harry reached out to her, feeling her jumble of emotions just outside.

"I'm very proud of you, boys," Dad said gently. "You've shown strength and courage worthy of men, and you are going to be great wizards, both of you."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Thanks, Dad."

"That doesn't mean you're to go risking your necks whenever you see a chance," Mum said in a warning tone. "If I hear about you running into the forest to rescue someone's toad, or..."

"We promise, Mum," Ron said hurriedly.

"Yeah, promise," Harry agreed. He was thinking about Neville's toad, Trevor. He hadn't seen the wilful thing in a while.

Mrs Weasley knelt at Ron's bed, an anxious look on her face. "Now, Ron, Madam Pomfrey told me that you suffered hypervitasia," she said in an urgent tone.

"Dad?" Harry asked softly, so that the others wouldn't hear. Mr. Weasley came to sit at his bedside, and took Harry's hand loosely in his.

"What is it, son?" Mr. Weasley said, smiling gently.

"What's actually wrong with Ron?" said Harry worriedly. In spite of his current vitality, Harry remembered how still Ron had been after the ward triggered.

"It's called hypervitasia," said Mr. Weasley solemnly. "Too much magical energy went through him at once. Combined with the ward itself being a stunning curse designed for a powerful Dark wizard..."

"But what does hypervitasia actually do to you?" Harry asked.

"It slows you down," Mr. Weasley explained, sighing. "The body slows everything down to try to stop itself from overheating again. You get weaker, and the slightest exertion has you drenched in sweat. Here, an exertion isn't running, it's trying to get out of bed."

Harry blinked at Mr. Weasley. In spite of himself, Harry turned to look at Ron. He was propped up on pillows, and besides his face barely any of him was moving.

"The problem with it is that it tends to happen in dangerous situations," Mr. Weasley went on, "and getting into a fight, or trying to escape one, while you're hypervitasic... It can never end well."

Mum came over to him now, fussing randomly and checking who knew what, putting her hand against his forehead and her cheek to his.

"Harry, nobody actually told us what happened to you," she said, frowning. "You seem fit and healthy to me."

"Professor Dumbledore did something," said Harry. "I don't really remember, but I think there was a hole, here." Harry pointed at his sternum.

Mum put a hand to her mouth. "Harry!"

She rushed over to Madam Pomfrey's office, while Dad simply stared at his chest.

"A hole?" Dad asked hoarsely.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Quirrell cursed me, right at the end."

"My best guess was an imprecise Evisceration Curse or a very precise Blasting Curse," Madam Pomfrey declared. "There was too much spell residue to get a clear idea, and forensics is not my speciality."

"But what did it _do_ to him, Madam Pomfrey?" Mum asked in a strained voice.

"A hole through his chest, just off-centre to his left, centring under the sixth rib," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding a little unbalanced herself. "Four and an eighth inches in diameter. It just missed the heart, but he lost a lot of blood and lung tissue. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't arrived with those phoenix tears, his lungs would both have collapsed even if the blood loss didn't kill him."

"The..." Mum started.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"Harry..." Dad said forlornly.

"Oh, my poor boy!"

Mum ran to him, squeezing him so tightly that tears came to his eyes too.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered. "This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen at Hogwarts. The wards..."

"It was Lord Voldemort," Harry offered.

"What?" Dad gasped.

" _Don't say the name!_ " Mum admonished in a strangled, anguished hiss.

"Professor Dumbledore said that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," said Harry uncertainly. She'd reacted even worse than Madam Pomfrey.

"Professor Dumbledore never had much to fear from him," said Mum.

"I just fried him," Harry said stubbornly.

"He almost got you too!" Mum cried. The tears were flowing freely from her eyes now, and she clutched him to her bosom like a buoy on the open sea. "Harry, you can't do anything like this again, do you understand me? You're only a boy! You should be playing Quidditch and Exploding Snap, not fighting Dark lords!"

"If we didn't, who would?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Don't talk back!" she snapped. "I'll be having words with Dumbledore. Your safety should be better looked after here."

Harry sighed and hugged her back. What else could he do?

"Harry, did you say you fought You-Know-Who?" Dad asked quietly.

"He was possessing Professor Quirrell," Harry explained. "He doesn't have a body anymore. But his face was on the back of Quirrell's head."

"You're delirious, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey insisted. Harry hadn't realised she was still there. "You had a traumatic experience..."

"Ask any of the others," Harry retorted. "I wasn't alone down there."

"He's dead, Harry," Dad insisted.

"He will be," Harry agreed. "But not yet."

Mum and Dad left not long after that. Harry wasn't sure they believed him, but maybe when Ginny and George gave their accounts they'd be a bit more receptive to the idea. Not a minute had gone by after they left when Ginny came tearing in through the double doors, a red and black bullet that knocked him flat on his back.

The others all came in behind her, staring openly at Harry. He gave them a moment. As much as he hated it when people stared at him, they had pretty much seen him raised from the dead.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Neville asked warily. He was walking with a crutch, and Harry noticed that Hermione was standing close by to help if needed.

"Never better," said Harry. "What about you?"

"This?" he asked, indicating the wounded leg with his crutch. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about five minutes. Hurt like a manticore's sting, but it's fine now."

"What happened to you?" Ron asked.

"You-Know-Who blew his shin bone right out of his leg," Hermione said distantly. "He kept on fighting, but he was lucky he didn't end up like Harry."

"If it wasn't for Ginny, we'd have been toast," Harry added, stroking Ginny's hair. She mumbled something into his chest, but didn't surface.

"I still can't believe we actually fought him," George said, raking his fingers through his hair.

"It was a hell of an entrance, by the way, guys,"

"I didn't realise we were going for something like that until Ginny started in," George grinned absently. "After that, well... couldn't help myself, really."

"You should've seen your face, Harry," Neville chuckled. " _What stone?_ "

Hermione stifled a laugh. "As if we had any idea what was going on. How _did_ you get the Stone, Ginny?"

"The Mirror gave it to me," Ginny mumbled. Harry only barely heard her.

"Um, are you going to get up?" Harry asked. He supposed wrapping his arms around her wasn't helping matters.

"Nn-nn," she replied, squeezing him tighter.

He shrugged helplessly at the others. "Why don't you tell me so I can translate for the others, then?" he offered.

"The mirror gave it to me," she said, heavily muffled but audible. "The moment I looked at it, my reflection grinned and winked at me, holding up the Stone. She put it in her pocket, and then it was in mine."

"Huh," Harry replied. "I guess that's what Dumbledore meant about finding it but not using it."

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Ginny got the Stone because she wanted to find it, but she didn't want immortality or gold. She just wanted to keep it from Voldemort," Harry explained. "So when she looked into the Mirror of Erised, she saw herself holding the Stone, and the Mirror gave it to her."

"Ahh..." Hermione gasped. "That's brilliant! But where was the Stone being kept?"

"Probably under the floor or something," Fred shrugged.

"Basic switching spell," George explained.

"Attached to a rune stone," Fred continued.

"Triggered by a ward on the Mirror," George finished.

Hermione's eyes bugged out, and she whipped her Muggle notebook and ballpoint pen out of an inside pocket and began scribbling away. Neville leaned over to look at what she was writing, but Hermione snatched the notebook away.

"You can see when I'm done!" she admonished.

Neville shrugged and hobbled over to Ron.

"Out, all of you!" Madam Pomfrey called, hurrying in. "You've had time to discuss the other day's events, now your friends need lots of rest."

They all groaned, but acquiesced. Apart from Ginny, that is.

"If you could kindly detach yourself from Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said impatiently, if not unkindly.

"Yeah, Ginny," Harry grinned. "How can I play Quidditch tomorrow like this?"

"Say what?" Fred and George said in unison.

"You're playing in the game tomorrow?" Fred asked.

"The game against Ravenclaw?" George added.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Harry asked.

"What's wrong, he says," George groaned.

"Wood's been doing his nut," said Fred.

"See, if we forfeit the match because we can't field a Seeker," said George.

"We lose the match and two hundred and fifty points," said Fred.

"But if we field a crappy, unpracticed Seeker..." George said leadingly.

"Ravenclaw can choose when the game ends," Harry finished, wincing. "You guys will tell him I'm playing, right?"

"Sure," Fred grinned.

"Do you think we're monsters?" George added.

"All in good time, though," Fred amended.

"After all, you need your sleep, Harry!" George laughed.

"Can't have Oliver..."

"... barging in here..."

"... disrupting your recovery..."

"... especially with you in such a tender state."

"Go on then," Harry laughed.

"Yes, do listen to Mr. Potter, by all means," Madam Pomfrey huffed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ginny," Harry said softly. "Thank you, for..."

She put a finger to his lips, smiling sadly. "Harry, I will never ever let you down."

Harry blinked and stared at her retreating back. She was the last one out the door, and she turned to look back at him, flames rippling through her hair as it flowed out behind her. Then she was gone.


	19. 19 - The House Cup

"You have another visitor, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Oh, good," said Harry, swallowing the last of his bacon. "Who is it?"

It was seven o'clock in the morning, and at ten he would be playing for the Quidditch Cup. Funnily enough, even after a pitched battle with Lord Voldemort, that was still an intimidating prospect.

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.

"It's – all – my – ruddy – fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! Ginny was right - it was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cried out, starting awake on the other side of the Hospital Wing.

"I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads…"

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead – anyway, got yeh this…"

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. His real mother and father.

In one, they were dancing together amidst the falling leaves of Autumn. In another, they were holding a small baby, waving its tiny hand at the camera. It was him, Harry realised.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… knew yeh didn' have any… d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

* * *

When Harry headed out of the hospital and back to the dormitory to collect his kit, it seemed to him that everybody had already rushed off in anticipation of the big game. He didn't encounter a single person as he went and got changed, nor on his way down to the Entrance Hall. When he got there, his broom slung over his shoulder, he saw that half the school was still eating breakfast. And they saw him.

The whole Great Hall went quiet. Hundreds of eyes fixed on him, and there was a rush of muttering. Even the staff were staring at him. Harry hurried quickly out through the main doors before the awkwardness could get any worse.

The walk across the grounds to the Quidditch pitch was incredibly long. As per usual he gave up before even getting halfway, hopping on his broom and easing it along barely above ground level. The pleasantly warm air washed over him, cooling him through his form-fitting quidditch robes and putting a dull roar in his ears that soothed his anxious thoughts.

"Hey, look! It's Potter!"

"Hey, Potter, give us a wave!"

Grinning in spite of himself, he turned and waved to the upper school students. One of them was in the yellow Quidditch uniform of Hufflepuff house. Crystal winked at him, and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Good luck!" she called.

"Thanks," he replied. "Good luck with the Harpies."

Killing broom thrust, he slingshotted himself on towards the pitch. The sun reflected blindingly off the rippling river as it flowed lazily into the Black Lake, which itself was most definitely not living up to its name under the cloudless summer sky. Harry guided the broom around the stadium and down the stairs to the changing rooms, letting it drift effortlessly around the wide 'U' of the stairway. As he coasted to a rest outside the Gryffindor section, he could hear Wood ranting and raving inside. He couldn't yet tell whether the twins had decided against telling him of Harry's recovery and he was panicking about losing the match, or if it was just Wood's usual mania.

Dismounting, he walked in to find himself faced with four blank stares.

"So…" Harry muttered. "I guess this means you didn't say anything?"

"Us?" Fred said, blinking at him.

"Oh, right…" George sighed dramatically. "George, he's talking about that whole fuss yesterday."

"Of course!" Fred/George grinned, slapping his forehead. "So sorry, Oliver!"

Oliver looked unsure whether to throttle the twins or fall to his knees and cry. "We could win..." he muttered.

"This may be the most inspired I've been all year," Katie smirked. "You okay, Harry?"

"Sure," Harry grinned. "Bit annoyed that you didn't come see me while I was laid up, but..."

"Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us in," Alicia explained.

"She said only close friends and family," said Angelina.

Harry wanted to argue that they were his friends, but as he thought about it he realised that they weren't really all that close. Most of the time they spent together was dedicated to practice, and while they had lots of fun doing that, the relationships seemed defined by and confined to Quidditch. Even after building up the courage to ask Angelina and Alicia for help with the Valentine's day date, he hadn't talked to either of them much more than was already normal.

"Harry, I don't know exactly what happened down there..." Wood said, walking to within touching distance of Harry. "What I want to know is, will it affect your play?"

"No, captain," Harry said firmly.

Wood smiled faintly, while the others stifled laughter.

"Do you remember what we talked about?" Wood pressed. "Their Seekers' techniques?"

"Greene and Chang?" Harry grinned. "Absolutely."

Lucas Greene was a seventh year of unusually powerful build for a Seeker. While that made him a little less agile, he almost always came out on top in a tangle. He rode a foreign broom - the Jaeger X-32. Jaeger were known for making brooms that were incredibly fast, but challenging to control. The X-series took that to a whole new level. It was a much older broom than Harry's Nimbus, having been released in the late seventies, but it had the same top speed, and would get to cruising speed faster than he could. Which meant that Harry had to stay on his toes.

Cho Chang was a slim, tall second year girl who constituted the one reserve Seeker in all the house teams. While she was incredibly agile and tactically aware and able, she rode a Comet 260. It cost nearly as much as the Nimbus, but that money went into aesthetics, not performance. The broom could barely reach seventy miles an hour with an average rider, where the Nimbus could clear a hundred.

"Good man," Wood smiled. "I've already given my speech. Let's go get that cup."

"YEAH!"

The stands seemed fairly full at this point. Thanks to the last war with Lord Voldemort, there were only about two hundred and fifty students at a school built for several hundred. It was still a significant improvement over the early eighties, where numbers had been as low as sixty when the school reopened. Those who hadn't been killed had fled the country, and most of those that had remained had been actively fighting for one side or another. Which meant that every British school of magic had had a lot of tension to deal with.

"Well then," said Wood. "Everyone ready up."

It was a pointless command. Everyone had triple checked their boot and gauntlet laces, cloak fastenings and broom footrests already, as always. But with victory so tantalisingly close, Harry supposed that Wood was getting neurotic - more so than usual, at any rate.

Harry rolled his shoulder, tired from holding his broom aloft so long. As if answering his discomfort, the Nimbus purred under his fingers, providing a small amount of lift so that he was suddenly guiding it more than anything else. Harry smiled quietly to himself, stroking the broomstick lovingly.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to this final, deciding match of the HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP!" Lee Jordan called through the public announcer. Harry was quite curious as to how it worked - there were no speakers in the stadium that he'd seen. Regardless, the crowd was now roaring in anticipation. "As you know, if Gryffindor can do better than lose by 170 points, they will pass Slytherin to win the cup. What do you think, Gryffindors? Can we do it?"

A roar went up from the stands as sixty or seventy students yelled and stomped their approval.

"What was that? I said: can we do it?!"

Harry could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. The wooden supports around them creaked at the exuberance of the Gryffindor supporters above them.

"Don't tell me!" Jordan cried exultantly. "Tell the team! THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

 _'_ _How can it be possible for so few people to make so much noise?'_ Harry wondered.

"Ravenclaw, you've been awful quiet," Lee said. It was a low, controlled challenge, but it permeated every level of the stadium. "Are you gonna lie down and let Gryffindor walk over you?"

"Your friend is making quite a fuss," Wood said tightly, his mouth set.

"He learned from the best," Fred grinned.

Alicia snorted quietly, lest Oliver suddenly burst. He was wound up so severely he almost seemed to be vibrating.

"GO GO GRYFFINDOR! GO GO GRYFFINDOR!"

"I think they want to see you, lions," Lee called, booming through the microphone.

Oliver verily threw himself onto his broom. "On the count of three."

They all hurried to join him in floating two feet above the ground, there in the shadow of the stadium.

"One."

"GO GO GRYFFINDOR!"

"Two."

Harry gritted his teeth, tensing on the broom like he was going to pounce.

"Three!" Oliver called, shooting low as Harry soared over him, the Chasers and Beaters flying between them.

Angelina led the five of them in an arrowhead formation, sweeping around to the right in an ever-tightening upward spiral. The spiral became so tight it seemed that Katie was spinning like a top, before Angelina drove them down in a rapid arc. They skimmed the grass before lifting up to soar over the stands.

That was when Harry realised why the stadium was so loud. The stands were genuinely packed. It was more than just students. Hogwarts robes were scattered among the seething mass of spectators, eating and cheering and yelling their support. Up in the Gryffindor parents' box, Harry saw Mr. and Mrs Weasley waving merrily at him and he felt his heart swell in his chest.

"And here come the Ravenclaws!" Lee called. The warm blue of their uniforms was but a shade deeper than that of the sky above.

Harry wafted down to hover in front of his friends. Neville tried to get up to greet him, only to be put firmly back into his seat by Hermione, smiling sheepishly. Meanwhile, Ginny offered him only a challenging look, and three words.

"Kick arse, Harry."

It was more than enough.

Building strain as he swung the broom lazily around to face the assembling players at the centre of the pitch, Harry launched the Nimbus with gratuitous ferocity. It became a dynamo, charging his excitement and amplifying the spark Ginny had just lit inside his chest.

Opposite him, Greene was smirking at him. "I hope you don't think I'll go easy on you just to screw Snape over. This baby wasn't made to lose. Anything."

"First time for everything," Harry smiled. "Although, didn't you lose to Higgs a few months ago?"

Greene scowled. "He got lucky."

"Of course," Harry grinned.

"Ready?" Madam Hooch called. At the captains' nods, she blasted the ball crate open. **_"Ascenscius Quaffle!"_**

Harry went straight under Greene, who bucked upwards in alarm. Shishkov, who had taken the Quaffle at the start, almost lost it when Harry zipped across his flight path. It had been very close - maybe a metre shy of a collision. The Bludger from one of the twins finished the job.

If there was one thing that Harry learned over the next few minutes, it was that the Jaeger had earned its reputation tenfold. No matter where Harry went, Greene had been and gone already. He'd be jealous of the older boy's broom if he couldn't see how hard Greene had to work just to keep it in a straight line.

"And Spinnet slams it home. 30-10 to Gryffindor!" Lee called.

Harry was just turning to cheer his teammates when something heavy delivered a glancing blow to his left thigh. It was a Bludger, and boy did it hurt. Trying to reposition his leg to take some of the weight off it only stretched the haemorrhaged muscle tissue and jostled the fractured bone beneath. Gritting his teeth, Harry pushed on. Gryffindor couldn't afford to lose its Seeker.

Corkscrewing to avoid the following Bludger, Harry accelerated, trying to lose the pain in the wind rushing past. Blinking his eyes clear, he went back on patrol and almost flew right past the Snitch. While he might usually have kicked his broom around, wrestling it through a gut-wrenching turn to catch it as he straightened off, attempting this manoeuvre led only to his leg seizing up. The uneven tension had Harry barrel rolling towards the Snitch, and by the time he regained control, Greene had noticed the little golden ball, too.

Greene came in at attack speed, his violent broomstick throwing him across Harry's path and almost earning Harry a kick in the head.

"Might as well give up now, Potter!" Greene shouted.

Harry had barely recovered from from Greene's dramatic entrance when the carbon fibre footrest swung back at his head. Pulling up the broom's nose, he was just about to slingshot forwards when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Greene saw it too, but it was too late. The Bludger smashed into the tail of the German broom.

Greene yelled out. The broom wasn't significantly damaged - the enchantments on them made them remarkably resilient both physically and magically - but the collision was powerful enough that man and broom went spinning off, out of control.

Harry appreciated this for about a tenth of a second, before noticing two things. First, he'd lost the Snitch in the melee. Second, the collision had stopped the Bludger in midair; it was now accelerating rapidly towards him.

Harry strained against his broom. The Bludger was buzzing angrily behind him, and his thigh pounded in sympathy. The Nimbus was quick, but he couldn't outpace the enchanted ball. A twitch of his wrist sent him whistling past Fred, who shouted something after him. Harry didn't know or care what he'd said. All that mattered was that satisfying clunk that came afterwards as Fred smacked the Bludger at some Ravenclaw.

"GO GO GRYFFINDOR! RACK US UP A BIGGER SCORE! GO GO GRYFFINDOR! MAKE THOSE BLUDGERS RUB 'EM RAW! GO GO GRYFFINDOR! DON'T STOP TILL THEY'RE ON THE FLOOR! GO GO GRYFFINDOR! WE'RE THE LIONS, HEAR US ROAR!"

Someone had clearly been working on a longer chant. Dean's animated lions could be heard punctuating the end of the song.

Just then, a glint of gold and a whispering of wings drew Harry's eye skyward.

"I think Potter has seen the Snitch..." said Lee, low and speculative. A hush descended over the crowd as the wind picked up in Harry's ears. "Oliver Wood shows a new, distracted side of himself, and Cooper pops that one through the left hoop almost lazily. 80-40 to Gryffindor."

This time, Harry and Lucas met with a crunch.

The Seekers wove an intricate dance around each other, unable to divert from their path, but unable to continue so long as their opponent remained.

Harry grunted as he mistimed a dodge and Greene slammed into his side. Greene's greater mass knocked him at least ten metres to the side before Harry could arrest the sideways momentum, kicking out the Nimbus's tail to use main thrust to get back on course. By that time Greene was maybe thirty broom lengths ahead.

He saw Greene throw his broom into a dive almost in slow motion, but Harry was already there. Greene's Jaeger wasn't the most responsive beast, and Lucas was wasting precious time drifting as he fought to change direction. Harry had no such issue, and within seconds he was back in the chase.

The Snitch darted towards Harry, and he urged the Nimbus on. He didn't dare try to slingshot himself for a quick catch. It would cause him to fall back temporarily, allowing Greene to knock him off; he clenched his teeth and waited.

The ground was rushing up to meet them.

'Ten, nine, eight...' Harry chanted. The Snitch darted to the side. 'Five!'

He yanked up on his broom handle, the sensitive Nimbus doing a near instant flip. Greene, who'd been right on his tail, zipped past him. He too was tugging on his broom handle, but it was not quite so effective. The Snitch flew straight into Harry's waiting hand. Greene flew into the waiting ground.

Broomsticks are made to be resilient, especially sporting models. When the Jaeger's nose plunged into the firm ground at nearly sixty miles an hour, it didn't break. It twanged, like a giant, wooden tuning fork. Greene was thrown off at full pelt, flipping and rolling over the pitch before coming to a stop about forty metres from his broom.

"POTTER HAS THE SNITCH!" Lee yelled gleefully. As loud and clear as he was through the microphone, Harry barely heard him over the crowd. "Somebody get Greene to the hospital wing and tell them that POTTER GOT THE SNITCH! IT'S ALL OVER! 240-50 TO GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"

Oliver stared listlessly at the Ravenclaw hoops, drifting slowly to the left. The rest of the team reacted with markedly more enthusiasm.

"Victory lap!" Fred yelled. Harry stayed only to check with Madam Pomfrey that Greene would be okay, before launching skywards to join his teammates in celebration.

The stands had burst, leaking students out onto the pitch. High above, the Weasleys stopped on their second lap by the box where their parents awaited them.

"Boys, there aren't words," Mr. Weasley smiled. "After all that happened, you've picked yourselves back up and led your house to glory. I'm so very proud of all of you."

Harry's face was already bright and flushed with the thrill of victory, but when he met Mr. Weasley's eyes, he blushed deeply.

"Harry, I can't believe you pulled out so late!" Mrs Weasley said, horrified.

Harry allowed himself a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Mum. But I had it under control."

"Look what happened to that other fellow!" Mrs Weasley continued, heedless. "What were you thinking?"

One of the twins sniggered behind Harry. Changing his grip, Harry made the Nimbus buck and give whichever one it was a slap to the face. The other twin gave a muffled snort.

"He's fine, Mum," Harry grinned. "Madam Pomfrey said so."

"That's no excuse!" Mrs Weasley said heatedly. The other parents in the box were watching them now. "You promised me you wouldn't take risks."

"I've done it loads of times in training," Harry shrugged. "It wasn't a risk for me, I knew when to pull out."

"Oh, Harry..." Mrs Weasley sighed, pulling him down into the box and wrapping him in a tight hug. Harry grimaced at the strain on his leg, but ignored it. Then his broom handle smacked him on the top of the head. "If you won't look after yourself for your own sake, do it for us. That was a spectacular catch, but your health is worth more than any victory. Do you understand?"

 _'_ _No.'_

"I guess..." Harry muttered.

"Good," Mrs Weasley beamed, holding him at arm's length. "Now go and celebrate with your friends. You've more than earned it."

The crowd was now almost exclusively on the pitch, with the professors trying desperately to keep order. Unruffled, Professor Dumbledore stood at the centre of the pitch, a large golden cup hovering beside him. The cup was engraved with each of the four symbols of Hogwarts' houses; two simple handles to either side might have been fashioned for giants. However, the really important part of the cup was the base on which it stood. On this base was engraved the winning team of every Quidditch Cup there had ever been at Hogwarts, along with the names of each team member.

By this point, Wood had recovered enough to land, but looked so distracted that Harry thought he might be knocked over by a breath of wind.

"The Gryffindor team are gathering now to receive the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup," Lee said triumphantly. "And I'm following Professor McGonagall down onto the pitch. Lee Jordan, signing off!"

Harry doubted anyone really even registered Lee's words. Everyone's eye was on them. McGonagall joined them as they stood before Dumbledore, looking slightly less austere than usual. Wood was still out of it, though. He perked up slightly when the twins smacked him round the back of his head.

Dumbledore, apparently not noticing their antics, raised his wand to his throat and cast a spell under his breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed in a voice that was most certainly magically amplified. "You gathered here today to support some of the finest young athletes our country has to offer. All of the four Hogwarts teams have showed great skill this year, and none of the losing teams should feel any shame."

The other three teams, of which even Slytherin and Hufflepuff were all in uniform, didn't agree in the slightest.

"However," Dumbledore continued, eyeing them carefully, "there can be only one winner. Seven students have shown particular strength and persistence to rise above their competition. It gives me great pleasure to award the 423rd Hogwarts Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor!"

He passed the giant thing to Professor McGonagall and the still dazed Oliver Wood, who broke out in a massive grin the moment his fingers closed on the cup's handle.

The yelling and cheering almost drowned out the clicking and whining of the cameras. Harry couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed them before. Several people, most of them apparently parents or guests, were using old Polaroid style cameras, some of which emitted little plumes of purple smoke with the flash. He supposed that the lack of electronics prevented Hogwarts' ambient magic from shorting them out.

Meanwhile, Neville, Ginny and Hermione had pushed their way to the front of the crowd, which was itself advancing on the victors. Harry barely had time to express his disbelief before he was lifted up and onto the mob, which carried them all the way out of the stadium, chanting all the while.

* * *

"Hell of a year, mate," Neville commented.

"I still kind of expect something to jump out at me when my back's turned," Harry said, smiling slightly.

"I thought you liked it when Ginny did that?" Neville grinned.

"Har bloody ha," Harry mock-scowled.

They were packing up in their dormitory before the end of year feast. Ron didn't see the point, and was playing chess against Dean and Seamus down in the common room.

"It's going to be weird not being here for two months though..."

"Definitely," Neville sighed.

Harry looked over at him. Neville had changed a lot since the start of the year. Losing weight was the least of it. This boy, who might have jumped at his own shadow at the start of the year, had now followed him against Lord Voldemort himself. He still bore the scars of that, needing the crutch Madam Pomfrey had lent him to get around.

"Neville," Harry began, "what happened to Trevor? I haven't seen him in months..."

"That's because I left him at home at Christmas," Neville grinned. "I spent half my life chasing that thing around the castle; I had enough."

"That's true," Harry shrugged. "Still, wasn't he a gift or something?"

"From my Great Uncle Algie," Neville nodded. "That's why I didn't get rid of him sooner."

"Wait, isn't that-"

"The one who dropped me out of an upstairs window to force me to start doing magic?" Neville said grimly. "Yeah, that's him."

Harry didn't really know what to say to that, so the silence stretched on for a little while. Harry noticed that Neville wasn't packing many personal items. He had clothes in abundance, and some gifts from family such as his Remembrall, but there didn't seem to be anything he would associate with Neville. There certainly wasn't anything herbology-related in there apart from the school textbook. They didn't talk about life outside Hogwarts that much, he realised. Perhaps it had been a subconscious decision on his part, to avoid conversation topics that could lead back to Privet Drive.

"I know he didn't mean to hurt me," Neville muttered. "He was just keen that the last Longbottom not be a Squib. They all were."

It made sense. Longbottom was a house with a rich history, not unlike Potter. For the last surviving heir to be born without magic would essentially destroy the family. Still, that didn't make it right to drop Neville out of windows or off the ends of piers.

"You're going to be a lot more than 'not a Squib', Neville," Harry said firmly.

"You think so?" Neville asked.

If he'd asked eight months ago, Harry couldn't have honestly given the same opinion. Neville had performed poorly in every class bar Herbology. He'd suffered from social ineptitude, a cripplingly poor memory and a complete absence of physical fitness.

Now, though, Neville had overcome each and every one of those problems. He was no Hermione when it came to memory and academia, but he only ever struggled with Potions now; Snape wasn't exactly helping him there. And while he couldn't touch Harry for athleticism, Neville had fought on against Quirrell with his left tibia in pieces in front of him. He was most certainly no longer the 'fat little crybaby' Pansy Parkinson had delighted in mocking. As for Neville's social life, well… Harry liked to think he'd helped there. Either way, Neville's confidence had skyrocketed.

"Without a doubt," Harry grinned. "Here, Neville…"

"Yes, Harry?" Neville asked, smiling himself now.

"Before you came to Hogwarts, what did you do?" Harry asked. "You know, for fun?"

"Well, Gran tutored me a lot in the family history, politics, economics, that kind of thing," Neville replied. "She took me along to functions every now and then…"

"For fun, Neville," Harry laughed. "You know, when you weren't doing that stuff."

Neville blinked at him, and Harry seized up inside. That wasn't the kind of thing he'd wanted to have in common with Neville, or anyone for that matter.

"I read books, I guess," Neville shrugged. "There wasn't much else. I probably told you about how Gran didn't trust me on a broom."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "But hey, you've got that greenhouse now, right?"

Neville grinned. "Yeah, you should come over in the summer and see it."

"Sure, and you better come over and taste some of Mum's cooking," Harry enthused. "Seriously, you can get addicted."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Would explain Ron, wouldn't it?"

Harry snorted. "I wouldn't go quite that far. He's got a special relationship with food."

"Well, okay, I'll come over to the Burrow so long as you all come to the Manor," Neville said, slamming his trunk shut.

"Deal," Harry smiled. He ran a finger down the length of his Nimbus, which responded by rising gently off the bed and hovering in front of him. Behind him, he could feel Ginny standing in the doorway.

"Oi, stay on the ground, Potter," Ginny smirked.

"Sometimes I think you keep coming up here just to prove you can," Neville said wryly.

"Maaaayyyybe," Ginny grinned. "You guys done?"

"Yep," Harry replied, signalling their locked trunks. "You?"

"Please, I was done yesterday," Ginny grinned. "Ron hasn't even started, has he?"

"You have to ask?" Harry and Neville said together, grinning at each other.

"Well, I'm thinking of teaching him a lesson," Ginny informed them, walking past Harry to Ron's bed.

"Not this again," Harry laughed exasperatedly.

"What?" Neville frowned.

"Remember that prank we told you about after Christmas?" Harry asked. "Where the twins turned that GameBoy into a spider?"

"Oh yeah," Neville said, his lips twitching. "That was pretty harsh you know..."

"Nothing so dramatic this time," Ginny huffed as she pulled it out from under Ron's pillow. "Just going to keep it from him until he notices."

"Ginny!" Harry laughed. "For you, that's almost tame!"

"And what exactly is wrong with that?" Ginny sniffed derisively.

"Nothing, I'm sure," Neville said, grinning at Harry. "So, how did you do in your exams?"

They'd all passed their first year exams quite comfortably, with Hermione placing at the top of the year. In spite of Neville's trouble with Potions and Ron's trouble with work, they'd both managed above average scores. They'd really hoped that Crabbe and Goyle, who were almost as stupid as they were mean, would fail the year, but they too had somehow managed passing grades. Ginny was a special case, though, having done extra assessments with Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick, to see how far she had progressed in her understanding and control of her abilities, and she'd left them an hour earlier to collect these results from the professors in question.

"Outstanding all around!" she gushed. "I didn't know what to expect, I mean there's nothing to compare me to..."

"Hey, that's great," said Harry. "Do they want you to keep doing special classes next year?"

"Not the same way," said Ginny. "They said they'll set me a challenge every month."

"A challenge?" Harry laughed. "What kind of challenge?"

"What's so funny?" Ginny pouted.

"It just sounds really corny," said Harry. "At primary school, a challenge was 'now let's see if you can do your times tables _backwards_ '."

He got two blank looks.

"Hermione would get it," Harry griped. "Go on, Ginny, what are the challenges?"

"I don't know any of next year's ones yet," Ginny said, giving him a slightly odd look, "but over the summer they want me to make something disappear from one place and appear in another."

"A Portkey?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, exactly, but I'm-"

"Not allowed," Neville and Ginny said in stereo.

"Wait, what?" said Harry.

"Portkeys like the ones we used over Christmas can't just be made by anyone whenever they like," Ginny explained.

"You've got to get permission from the Ministry," Neville added. "Department of Magical Transportation, so that's Varell Parkinson."

"Parkinson?" Harry scowled.

"Harry, Pansy is my third cousin," Neville said with a wry grin. "People being related doesn't mean that much. Besides, every pureblood in Britain is related."

"Wait, what's third cousin even mean, again?" Harry asked.

"They share a great... great grandparent," Ginny said haltingly. "Yeah."

"Well that sucks," Harry said sympathetically; Neville just shrugged. "But Ginny, didn't you tell me ages ago that heritage is really important to wizards? If you're all related..."

"We're related _because_ the bloodlines are considered so important," Ginny scowled. "It's killing wizard families off because they refuse to marry people _below their station_."

"Ouch," Harry muttered.

"Didn't you ever wonder why there was so little fuss about us?" Ginny asked.

Harry frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously people made a big scandal about how Mum and Dad adopted you," said Ginny. "But that, as you and a few others pointed out, made us as good as brother and sister. And we're dating."

"Things were said..." Harry muttered. "But go on."

"Purebloods marry their cousins all the time," Ginny explained. "We're not actually related very closely, it's just a bit of parchment, so people make jokes, but it doesn't matter."

Harry stared at her. _'Cousins?'_

"But we were talking about your challenge, Ginny..." Neville said awkwardly. "How do you think you'll try doing it?"

* * *

The Great Hall sustained an ungodly volume that evening. Harry could barely hear Hermione, who was directly across the table from him.

Across the hall, Malfoy was a subdued presence. After everything, Slytherin was in second place for the cup, and his midnight wandering trying to catch Harry and Norbert had constituted Slytherin's most significant loss of points all year. Even Snape's compulsive rewarding of Slytherin breathing techniques wasn't enough, especially with the customary fifty points Gryffindor got for winning the cup.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding. However, it is best not to count your chickens before they have had a chance to hatch. Therefore, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still, for a few seconds at least. When the twins started a drum roll, the tension broke for the most part.

"Ahem, thank you," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, and for admirable loyalty and courage in great peril, I award Gryffindor house... fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My little brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

"Second, to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house thirty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – this was more points than any house had received in one sitting that they could remember.

"Third, to Misters Frederick and George Weasley," said Dumbledore. "For supporting friends and family in the most improbable of predicaments, and maintaining sound judgement in trying situations, I award Gryffindor twenty points for each of them."

They jumped up on the table and bowed to the hall. Slytherin were not at all appreciative, but the other houses were perfectly happy to laugh at Slytherin's misfortune after suffering Snape's favouritism all year long.

"To Mr. Neville Longbottom, for his complete commitment to the safety of his friends, and the very school in which we stand, I award forty points to Gryffindor house."

The Gryffindor table was shaking dangerously by this point. Snape looked absolutely livid, and turned a gaze on Harry that was so full of loathing that Harry could feel it like cold oil on his skin.

"To Miss Ginevra Weasley, whose magical prowess and strength of character helped prevent a catastrophe of C'thulhean proportions..." Ginny's face glowed, a small smile playing at her lips as she gazed up at the headmaster. "Fifty points for Gryffindor."

Hagrid was weeping again by this point, and when he blew his nose into a handkerchief it sounded like a foghorn, cutting through even the ruckus at the Gryffindor table. Harry squeezed Ginny's hand under the table. She was grinning like she'd been given the world.

"Finally, to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The Great Hall went suddenly and dramatically into the eye of the hurricane. "… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, entirely disregarding his own welfare in his determination to protect that which matters most, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

As suddenly as they'd entered the eye, they were out again. Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. The miniature house points hourglasses behind the head table looked to be in trouble, for the Gryffindor one was full to bursting — the rubies that sat in the upper half were twitching and jumping as they tried to force their way down.

"With that taken into account, the points stand thus," Dumbledore called, almost inaudible over the storm of applause, "In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points; in third, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six. Slytherin are second with four hundred and seventy-two points, while with seven hundred and seventy-eight points, the winners of this year's House Cup are..."

He raised his hands, and clapped. The sound reverberated through the hall, calming everyone down just long enough to hear the resounding, disembodied, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Red and gold Gryffindor banners unfurled out of thin air at regular intervals all down either side of the hall, with one massive banner behind the head table. Professor McGonagall got to her feet, and the Gryffindor table once again descended into anarchy. Even Neville, with his dodgy leg, was waving his crutch around like a lunatic.

Ginny turned to him, kissing him passionately amidst the chaos. Her flowery scent permeated his nose, sneaking into his brain and dulcifying his mind. He could _feel_ her, so much more clearly than he ever had before. Her jubilation was like a physical entity that jumped and transformed even as he... looked at it? Felt it? It seemed to be something in between. A firework erupted blue, purple and magenta above them, and Harry couldn't be sure whether it was one of Ginny's magical outbursts or a treat from Fred and George. But even as the light of the firework crystallised into a shower of vivid sparks, Harry knew that he was where he belonged.

Dumbledore coughed. It was ever a mystery to Harry how some people could control an entire room with the simplest of actions.

"As I am sure you are all eagerly anticipating it, may our final feast of this school year be served!" Dumbledore said genially, sitting down to await his own meal.

As one, the serving bowls filled with food, from minced beef and mashed potatoes to smoked salmon and pasta.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, helping himself to some of everything with his right hand while he stuffed himself full of pie with his left.

"I'd say he's earned it," Hermione sighed. Ron flashed her a grin before turning back to his plate.

"Hey, Neville," Seamus called, "how's the leg comin'?"

"All right, thanks, Seamus," Neville smiled. "It's the right shape, anyway."

"That's not funny," Hermione scolded. Seamus didn't seem to agree with her.

Harry found Malfoy again on the other side of the room. Draco wasn't even eating. Crabbe and Goyle were eagerly tucking into their dinners, but he just glared poisonously at the Gryffindor banner hanging over him. A twinge of sympathy seized him behind his breastbone, pulling at the corner of his mouth; little had gone right for the Malfoy heir this year. But then he thought of all the bile Malfoy had dropped at their feet over the year and stifled the feeling.

Ginny squeezed his hand, grinning up at him.

 _The little whorelet..._

 _'_ _Yeah, fuck Malfoy,'_ Harry thought, grinning back and attending to his food.

 ** _'_** ** _Harry?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I want to go out under the cloak tonight,'_** Ginny said easily, taking a spoonful of minced beef.

It was becoming much easier to talk telepathically these days. They hadn't been challenged about having random staring matches for months; communicating mentally no longer impeded their ability to do other things, so long as they maintained physical contact. Apparently, practise made perfect.

 ** _'_** ** _Got anything special in mind?'_** Harry asked eagerly. He was still pumped from the raucous celebrations just moments ago.

 ** _'_** ** _The library,'_** Ginny said matter-of-factly.

Turning, Harry gave her an anguished look of disbelief.

 ** _'_** ** _I don't plan on studying,'_** she giggled, even breaking a physical smile. **_'I want to look around for information on our telepathy.'_**

Harry didn't reply for a while. Instead, he allowed himself to be distracted by his delicious meal, Katie skipping down to steal the mince pie, and the twins' efforts to enchant one of the Gryffindor banners hanging over the Slytherin table.

Katie's hand shot out, and Harry's was there to meet it. Her hands were slightly calloused, but surprisingly small in his.

"Hey Harry," she said, smiling lasciviously. "That was a sweet catch yesterday."

Harry felt the corner of his mouth quirk upwards, even as he received a flash of annoyance from Ginny.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I saw that Haverby Loop you pulled with Alicia."

"You did?" Katie replied happily, her cheeks reddening. All three Chasers had been practising the move for a few months now, but hadn't managed to pull it off smoothly once until then.

At that exact moment, the Gryffindor banner above Marcus Flint fell from its invisible hangings. Three seconds later, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and all those around him were struggling like beasts under a net. A few chuckles went up at the Gryffindor table. Upon freeing themselves, though, it was apparent that the Slytherins couldn't see the funny side.

Harry was still holding Katie's hand, and was about to let go when she lunged for the pie again. Swinging his legs over the bench, he put himself between her and her goal.

"Ask nicely, Katie," Harry chided.

Hermione snorted behind him, and he smirked slightly as Katie went bright red.

"Uh, no, it's fine, thanks, Harry," she stammered. Tugging her hands free, she raced back to her seat.

Harry frowned after her, sitting heavily back down between Ginny and Hermione. He heard an eruption of giggling from a little way down the table, and saw Angelina wink at him.

His mind a-whirl, Harry turned back to find everyone sniggering - everyone apart from Ron. He carried on with his food as if he hadn't even noticed anything had happened. Still, he had a sullen look that hadn't been there before.

 ** _'You like her, don't you?'_** Ginny asked.

 ** _'Of course, she's ...'_** Harry began, but seeing the way her face fell he realised his mistake. **_'Wait, no, not like that.'_**

 ** _'How then?'_** Ginny pressed.

 ** _'As a friend, obviously,'_** Harry replied, his eyebrows contracting in his confusion. _'What did I do?'_

 ** _'But you liked it, didn't you?'_** Ginny asked. She didn't seem vexed on the outside, but he felt her as a chaotic mess of emotions.

 ** _'I guess,'_** Harry admitted. **_'How is that my fault?'_**

Ginny turned to look at him. Evidently, whatever she saw satisfied her, because her expression shifted slowly from slightly hurt to mischievous.

 ** _'She_** **definitely** ** _fancies you, you know,'_** she grinned, turning back to her food.

 ** _'Yeah?'_** Harry asked worriedly. He suddenly felt trapped.

 ** _'Don't sound so upset,'_** Ginny laughed. **_'Ron would kill to have a pretty girl running after him.'_**

Harry thought back to what Ron had seen in the Mirror of Erised and realised that she might not be far off.

 ** _'So what do I do?'_** Harry asked.

 ** _'Nothing,'_** Ginny smirked. **_'So, are we going to the library tonight?'_**

 ** _'Sure,'_** Harry replied, picking at his food. He felt entirely off-balance.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Although Ginny occasionally flickered with anger or annoyance, Harry was slowly able to recover his composure.

It was a festive group of Gryffindors who headed up to the tower that evening. The twins teased him mercilessly about Katie on the way up, but the girl herself wouldn't even meet his eye. She was with Angelina and Alicia, which Harry noted as peculiar. She didn't usually hang out with them, seeing as they were a year above her. For their part though, they were beside themselves.

Nearly everyone headed upstairs once they got to the common room, probably to finish packing. Or start, as was the case with Ron. The few who remained sat, docilely, by the fire, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"I'm going to bed," Neville yawned. "See you guys in the morning."

"Me too, I'm knackered," Hermione added. "Coming, Ginny?"

"In a bit," Ginny promised.

"Going to stay and chase off Harry's admirers?" Hermione teased.

Ginny glared at her, but Hermione just laughed and went upstairs to her dorm.

They waited for a couple of minutes. Some of the older students fell asleep in armchairs by the fire, enjoying their last night in the Gryffindor common room. A cat mewled as it stretched out in front of the hearth. Taking this as their cue to leave, Harry and Ginny crept quietly out of the portrait hole, taking cover in the secret passage across from it to put on the cloak.

Practise made their journey through the castle comfortable, if not easy. The fear of Peeves flying in through a wall and wreaking havoc was always there, of course. Harry was convinced that Mrs Norris could tell they were there even if she couldn't actually see them, but she'd never brought Filch as she was known to do.

When they reached the library, they found the doors unlocked.

"What?" Harry whispered. "Anyone could get in."

 ** _'We all know about the Great Book Robbery of 1973,'_** Ginny said, rolling her eyes. **_'I'm pretty sure the books are warded against being taken from the library. I mean, Pince does run her wand over them when they're taken out... Anyway, stick to telepathy.'_**

"Lumos," Harry muttered. Blue light formed a perfect circle on the far wall, soft and shifting at the edges.

 ** _'Right, so we want bonds and contracts,'_** Ginny mused, flipping open the index on the librarian's desk and reading under her own magical light.

The library was huge, and Harry only really grasped its scale now that it was dark and empty. And it was too quiet. Harry was accustomed to the quietness of the library, with Hermione and (to a lesser extent) Ginny for friends, but this absolute, deathly silence was stifling.

 ** _'Okay, I'll check the Restricted Section,'_** said Ginny. **_'You try the second floor. If there's trouble, we can meet under the stairs, there.'_**

She indicated the far staircase to the left.

 ** _'You take the invisibility cloak,'_** she insisted. Harry was about to protest, but she didn't give him a chance. **_'You'll never get down the stairs without it.'_**

It was sound logic, but he could keep her under the cloak if she went upstairs in his stead...

 ** _'Go to the far right,'_** said Ginny. **_'You want the third row of bookshelves, and you should find it there, on your left.'_**

With one last glance at the index, she shut it and hurried off into the darkness.

Biting his cheek, Harry headed up the double-inversion stairs to the first floor. His wand light found their usual table right at the railing. While he had gained a slightly greater appreciation for books from Ginny and Hermione, the library hadn't found its way into his heart as it had theirs. Maybe it was Madam Pince's no tolerance policy on happiness, or the strife they always had in the library with Ron and Hermione bickering. Whatever the reasons, he wasn't too fond of the place. Still, he felt a sudden pang upon realising that he wouldn't return here for nine weeks.

Satisfaction leaked through the bond. Below him, there was a muffled creak. Ginny had just gotten through the locked gates to the restricted section, and he was still on the wrong floor. Grimacing, Harry rushed through the aisles of three metre high bookshelves. His now thoroughly worn out school shoes struggled for purchase on the thin carpet, and every time he changed direction he would slide sideways, legs working furiously to keep him from careening into a bookshelf.

The second floor was essentially for anything not directly relevant to the school curriculum. Fiction, careers advice and back issues of major publications could all be found up here. But what Harry was interested in was the section on law and contracts behind the one for public records.

The books here didn't show signs of much use; most of the books had a generous coating of dust, and there was only the occasional disturbance of the dust on the shelves to show that a book had been removed at some point in the last few months. Harry raised his wand to better read their titles.

 _Law of Man vs Law of Nature_ Arrandal

 _What About Law?_ Smythe

 _A Pound of Flesh: How Magic Collects on Your Debts_ Burke

 _Contracts_ MacMillan

 _A History of Contracts and Bonds_ Avery

Harry stopped suddenly, staring at the book. Surely he couldn't have found it so soon? Pulling the book carefully from its place so as to not disturb those to either side, he wiped the dust from the cover to find gold lettering impressed upon dark red leather. It was fairly heavy, but not so massive as to be daunting. He brought it and his wand under the invisibility cloak, and turned to the flowing script in the introduction.

 _Since time immemorial, magic has coursed through the veins of the greatest of men. It is a power without equal, a force unto itself. Should a sorcerer call, magic will invariably answer. But it is not merely through the casting of spells and the brewing of potions that a sorcerer feels the power of magic. Whether by design or by chance, almost every sorcerer will find themselves bound by a magical contract or nexus. Our institution of matrimony, which the mundane mock with religious bleating, embodies this aspect of magic perfectly. But even this binding of two souls is a pale imitation of what we once had._

Harry felt his jaw drop slightly, and not even at this man's Malfoy-esque manner. _'The binding of two souls?'_

 _Here I shall endeavour to fully explore our rich history of bonds and contracts. In doing so, it is my hope that you will gain a greater appreciation for magic, and that you will reach similar conclusions to those which I have drawn as to why many of these have fallen not just out of use, but out of the common discourse._

Knowing that he had what they were looking for, Harry headed back down to the library's ground floor. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before Ginny emerged from the Restricted Section with a couple of books tucked under her arm.

"Hey, Harry," she grinned.

"Damn," Harry muttered. "I should get this cloak checked, it's useless."

Ginny smirked at him, reaching out with her free hand to grab him by the front of his robes and lead him back up the stairs to their usual place. Flipping through the book he'd brought, it didn't take Harry long to find the first of the bonding chapters - that on the marital bond.

It turned out that wizard wedding ceremonies were based on a type of magical bond which had been slowly disappearing since the Middle Ages. Commonly known as the soul bond, Nexus Animae was the most powerful of the 'classic bonds', as the author called them. Most of what was known about soul bonds was more legend than reliable historical account, but it involved an increasingly powerful emotional connection between the sorcerers. This connection was not a simple link, as with the modern marital bond. Rather, it opened the souls to each other, allowing them to interact directly with irreversible consequences. Any or all of those involved might start to lose their sense of self, forgetting which person they were or even that they were an individual at all.

In the following chapter, entitled Triumvirate, the author went on to talk about a big three of the classic bonds: Nexus Animae, Nexus Sagacitas and Nexus Corpus. They were the bonds of mind, body and soul. If the soul bond was known for empathy, and the mind meld for telepathy, the convergence bond was known for the horror of two people physically becoming one.

Little was known about Nexus Corpus, for it was too sensational a phenomenon for people to describe accurately. There were tales ranging from people speaking with a voice that wasn't theirs to people with literally merged bodies, with two heads and eight limbs. However condescending the author wanted to be about religion, he said that convergence had generally been considered to be the work of demons rather than natural bonding magic. There were stories of intelligent demons visiting earth, but they were considered more legend or fancy than anything else - a fruitless quest for power to trap the darker parts of wizarding society. Or inspiration for popular fiction.

 ** _'So I've found three types so far,'_** Ginny told him.

 ** _'I think we can rule out Nexus Corpus,'_** Harry replied, grimacing. There was something about the idea of sharing a body with someone that creeped him out.

 ** _'No complaints here,'_** Ginny replied, glancing over at his book. **_'This book is kinda... graphic... about what happened to this particular pair.'_**

 ** _'This one says there aren't any reliable accounts,'_** Harry frowned.

 ** _'I'm still not keen on it.'_** Ginny flicked forwards through her book, whose pages were thinned and yellowed with age. **_'Animae and Sagacitas look quite cool, though.'_**

Harry skipped the rest of the section on Corpus entirely. The other two made for far more pleasant reading.

It quickly became apparent to Harry that he and Ginny shared a bond of the type that the book described. These bonds were always accidental - no one had ever discovered a way to recreate their effects artificially, apart from the much weaker marriage bond. The question was which one, or whether they might have one of the many documented variants.

Sagacitas, for instance, described their telepathy perfectly, but couldn't explain how they received strong emotions from each other, or the proximity sensor effect. Both of those were explained perfectly by Animae.

Animae was known for manifesting in people who had yet to even meet, and Avery seemed almost sickened by the romantic implications.

 _Magic does not pander to the whims of the hysterical. Just as many subjects of Nexus Animae have killed their bonded as formed sexual relationships with them. However much the authors of tawdry, erotic fictional works would like to convince you otherwise, there is absolutely no correlation between the formation of an Animae and romantic interest. In fact, such bonds have occurred between members of the same gender._

Harry stared at the page, his train of thought completely derailed. Ginny leaned in to read the passage.

 ** _'Well this must have been written a while ago,'_** she snorted, flicking back to the beginning to check the publication details. **_'Yeah, 1894... You'll have noticed that not many people bring that kind of thing up - not many people are happy about it, because it means those people don't have kids, but nobody is really gonna be so blatant.'_**

Harry shrugged - he hadn't ever given the topic much thought - and they moved on.

When it came to specifics such as how to make the bonds stronger, however, the book had far less to say. Avery was just reporting and evaluating what he could know for sure. However, from Ginny's expression, he knew that she was having better luck.

 ** _'What have you found?'_** Harry asked.

 ** _'Sshhh, wait!'_** Ginny replied quickly. **_'I ...'_**

Harry took her hand in his, and slowly started to tickle her palm, earning himself a glare for his troubles.

 ** _'It should be improving on its own,'_** she said, turning to look him in the eyes, as if she could assess the strength of their bond from the look in his eyes. **_'Sagacitas is supposed to strengthen the more we talk to each other telepathically, and Animae gets stronger the more we... feel... for each other.'_**

 ** _'So they're like muscles,'_** Harry mused. **_'Use them and they get stronger, otherwise they weaken to nothing.'_**

 ** _'Yeah,'_** Ginny said, biting her lip. He could feel anxiety, and maybe a little frustration, bleeding through to him.

 ** _'What is it?'_** Harry asked, raising his hand slowly up her arm.

Ginny shuddered at his touch and looked away, sniffing. **_'The bond isn't getting any stronger, is it?'_**

 ** _'Why do you say that?'_** Harry asked.

 ** _'Bec-'_** she whirled back around, her hair flying out in a fiery disc. **_'You've felt something?'_**

 ** _'When Quirrell trapped us both after we attacked him, you thought one word,'_** Harry smiled. Ginny was staring disbelievingly at him. **_'I didn't know what else to do. I reached out to you, and you said... burn.'_**

 ** _'But...'_** Ginny muttered, staring at her hands. **_'I only...'_**

 ** _'Exactly,'_** Harry replied. **_'But why are you so worried about whether the bond is getting stronger?'_**

 ** _'Harry, it says the bond's strength depends on the strength of our feelings for each other!'_** Ginny said with a sudden venom.

Harry scratched at his head in confusion. Why would she be worried about the strength of... **_'This is about Katie again, isn't it?'_**

 ** _'No!'_** Ginny protested. **_'Yes! Why do you care about her anyway?'_**

 ** _'What's wrong with you, Ginny?'_** Harry asked, vexed. **_'Are you going to start getting all worked up about me spending time with Hermione now?'_**

 ** _'Hermione's different,'_** Ginny retorted. **_'She doesn't throw herself at you like a tramp.'_**

 ** _'Katie's not a tramp,'_** Harry scowled. **_'And she wasn't throwing herself at me.'_**

 ** _'Why are you even defending her?'_** said Ginny angrily. **_'Would you be happy if Dean or Seamus were behaving like that with me?'_**

He probably wouldn't be, it was true, but he trusted her enough that he wouldn't make a fuss over it. Besides, they hadn't actually been flirting or anything, so why was she still upset?

 ** _'I'm sorry if it looked like we were flirting or something...'_** Harry sighed. **_'Ginny, nothing is going to happen between me and Katie.'_**

 ** _'Yeah?'_** Ginny challenged.

She had such heat in her eyes, but her voice wobbled and her cheek spasmed - she was afraid. Much as Harry hated to admit it, even to himself, that scared him. He didn't know what he was doing in the first place. The last thing he needed was for Ginny not to be able to deal with whatever the hell was going on. Why did she have so much trouble seeing that he didn't, couldn't care for anyone else? Nobody else had brought such joy into his existence, with the possible exception of Hagrid, and much as he cared for the big guy, Hagrid couldn't touch his Ginny in the looks department. Also, Ginny never tried to raise a dragon in the middle of a school, so she had that going for her too.

 ** _'I couldn't leave you, Ginny,'_** said Harry, pulling her close. **_'It's you and me, isn't it?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah. You and me.'_**


	20. 20 - A Welcome Holiday

As Harry awoke on the morning of the last day at school, he found a strange ache in his chest. He wasn't ready. Not to leave the castle, and not to leave the carefree bubble of first year. School would start getting serious soon, and that didn't seem right. This was magic after all. How could life still seem so mundane in a world where you could bring furniture to life or turn an animal to stone with just a flick of your wand and a few muttered words?

It seemed he had barely left the dorm before he was being given a note warning him not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," Fred said sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; and they were boarding the Hogwarts Express, talking and laughing as Hogsmeade disappeared behind them in a mess of smoke.

The countryside became greener and tidier as the five of them sat in relative peace. The twins came in about two hours into the journey with a big box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and they talked about everything but the third floor corridor - they discussed quidditch, third year subject choices and the stupidity of not being allowed to practice magic at home. They played exploding snap, chess and even a game of scrabble which the twins had borrowed from Lee Jordan.

Too soon, they were pulling off their wizard robes and putting on muggle t-shirts, jeans and coats as the train pulled lazily into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform, even after finding trolleys for all their stuff. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes to minimise stress on the wards over the muggle side. Everyone bursting through a solid wall at once would likely be too much for the notice-me-not to deal with.

People jostled them as they moved forwards towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Unfortunately," Harry muttered. "See you Susan!"

The girl blushed and hurried through the barrier with Hannah Abbott.

"Why don't you just Floo home?" Hermione asked.

Many of the wizard-born were doing just that. Harry was sure that Malfoy would never deign to mingle with muggles if he didn't have to.

"Mum likes to come through Kings Cross," Ron grinned.

"She'll break the Statute of Secrecy one of these days, going on about how many muggles there are," Ginny sighed.

Harry vaguely remembered the first time he'd met Mrs Weasley. She'd been incredibly conspicuous, although that had helped him at the time since Hagrid had left him there without telling him how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. If she hadn't been raving about muggles and Ginny hadn't been so enthusiastic, he'd have been stuck.

"Come off it Ginny, you're worse than she is!" Ron laughed.

Ginny flushed brightly in her embarrassment. "Am not!"

"No, you're very level-headed," Hermione deadpanned.

"Hey! I'm-"

"Next," the wizard at the barrier grunted, and they were shunted forwards by the group of middle-years behind them.

"Hey, watch it," Ron half-snarled, but he went completely ignored.

"Like I said, I'm perfectly controlled," Ginny said serenely. "I didn't kick any of them in the nuts, did I?"

"Damn," Neville muttered.

"Oh, don't worry Neville," Ginny grinned. "I wouldn't hurt you without really good reason."

"Good to know," Neville replied, still looking and sounding slightly worried, as he hurried through the barrier with Ron and Hermione.

When Harry and Ginny were let through the barrier, they found Ron desperately trying to escape one of Mrs Weasley's crushing hugs. Being the supportive friends they were, Hermione and Neville were desperately trying to stifle their laughter.

"Muuuuum!" Ron whined.

"Now don't give me that," said Mrs Weasley sternly. "I don't need an excuse to miss my son."

"But you saw me just a few days ago!" he complained.

"Harry, Ginny..." It was Percy. He had a slight grimace on his face, as if unsure of himself. "What really happened down there?"

"If we told you, Perce," Fred said solemnly.

"We'd have to kill you," George shrugged.

At their intrusion, Percy's face contorted, before returning to his usual imperious expression.

"Of course I can trust the two of you to make light of this," Percy sniffed.

"Leave it out, Perce," Fred said

"You just wish..." George began.

"Alright you two," Ginny interjected wearily. "You don't have to jump on his throat every time he opens his mouth."

"Thank you, Ginny," said Percy gratefully.

Fred snorted, but the twins both turned their attentions to Ron all the same.

"Not here, okay, Percy?" Harry urged.

Percy stared at him for a moment, as if measuring him. Then he nodded slowly. "I can wait," he said.

"...Oh yes, Mrs Weasley, they've been very well-behaved," Hermione was saying with a grin.

"Oh, hello again Mr. and Mrs Granger," Mrs Weasley said warmly. Harry turned to see them walking, smiling, towards Hermione. They seemed far more at ease on the muggle side of the barrier. Hermione ran towards them, abandoning her trolley entirely. "I hear your daughter got record marks in her end of year exams!"

"She's always been bright," the dark-haired woman smiled fondly. She pulled Hermione into a brief but tight embrace before holding her at arm's length and inspecting her from tip to toe. "What's this Hermione, you prefer their food to ours?"

Hermione blushed brightly and muttered something incomprehensible. Bursting into laughter, her father lifted her into the air, spinning her around until she shrieked.

Hermione's mum gave Ginny a long look, and an appreciative smile. "We should get going," Mrs Granger said apologetically. "Say goodbye to your friends, honey."

"Aww, mum, already?" Hermione complained. "You guys have barely even met my friends..."

"I feel like I know them already from all your letters," Mr. Granger chuckled. "We'll have to talk some other time, kids, I left the cooker on at home."

Harry winced. "I hope the traffic isn't too bad, Mr. Granger."

"This late in the evening?" the man smiled. "We should be fine, but let's hope Plod's looking the other way."

Harry grinned at everyone's befuddlement over the in-joke. Mr. Granger was quite possibly the first muggle Harry had met who was easy-going enough to simply make a joke about speeding like that.

"Speaking of which, you've got to see what I've done to the car, Hermione," Mr. Granger enthused.

Hermione's mother cleared her throat loudly. "Aren't we going somewhere?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"Oh God Dad, what is it this time?" Hermione sighed.

"It's parked a few streets down, why don't you all come with us?" Mr. Granger offered.

"I suppose it couldn't do any harm," Mrs Weasley said amidst the raucous approval of most of the others.

Just then, Harry noted the arrival of Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother.

"Hello Gran," Neville called. "We're going to see Hermione's car."

The austere woman fixed Neville with a hard stare. "No, they are going to see the car. Come along, Neville. Good day, Molly."

Resignedly, Neville wished everyone a good summer. He perked up a bit at being reminded that they'd all be seeing each other soon anyway, and that he could always see the car when they visited Hermione. Mrs Longbottom gave them a curt nod, and took Neville in the opposite direction.

"Why do you reckon she was all annoyed at him?" Harry asked quietly as they followed Hermione's parents out of King's Cross.

"She's usually like that, isn't she?" Ron put in. "She was all stuck up at the Ministry and all."

"True, but I bet Neville was meant to meet her on nine and three quarters," Ginny said. "Why would she come through the muggle side?"

"Good point, but why would he sneak out?" Harry replied.

It was getting dark outside, and the first street lights were starting to switch on, giving the pavement a warm hint of yellow. Above them, the only stars in the twilight sky were the lights of the aircraft flying overhead, leaving London City or arriving at Heathrow from Europe or Africa. Mr. Granger stared at one of the Heathrow-bound lights as it passed overhead.

"Mandela's having a hard time of it," Mr. Granger told Mrs Weasley.

"I'm sorry, who?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Nelson Mandela," said Mr. Granger, seeming confused himself. "Sorry, Hermione told us you had access to national television now, I assumed you'd be keeping up with the news."

"I'm sure I would be," Mrs Weasley frowned, "but the television stopped working soon after the children left."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other.

"We spent most of the time when we did have it watching movies," Mrs Weasley explained.

"I'd tell you all about it but this is us," Hermione's dad said, the corners of his lips twitching.

The thing in front of them was 70% car, 10% beast and 20% childish enthusiasm.

"Sweet," Harry grinned. The whole of Privet Drive would hide behind their curtains if this came roaring down the street.

"Dad, I wouldn't be surprised if an officer followed you here just to make sure you weren't a street racer," Hermione said exasperatedly.

The tall man looked entirely too proud of himself. "I know."

"I apologise for my husband," Mrs Granger sighed. "He's forty going on fourteen."

Fred and George were slowly circling the car, examining it from every angle. It was a dark grey, F-reg BMW 5-series, that much Harry could be sure of. Beyond that, Mr. Granger had added a large rear spoiler, put aggressive-looking vents in the bonnet, added obscenely flared wheel arches to contain the wider, black custom wheels... The car did indeed look like a street racer's ride, and more suited to an eighteen year old boy than a middle-aged dentist.

"Took her to Brands Hatch last weekend and broke sixty seconds on the indy circuit," Mr. Granger grinned.

"As he tells anyone who'll listen," Mrs Granger added, rolling her eyes. "We'd best get going. Have a good summer everyone."

"I think it's probably best if you send the first letter," Mr. Granger said as he unlocked the doors. "Just in case the postman can't find you."

Fred lent a hand getting Hermione's straining trunk into the boot, and then everyone was saying their goodbyes. The car started with a low growl, rising to a throaty roar before subsiding to a gentle purr with a whoosh from the turbocharger. The symphony from the large twin tailpipes drew a great deal of attention from passers-by, and inside the car Hermione was holding her head in her hands. There was another growl, and the beast turned away, streaking off into the darkness leaving nothing behind but an angry red glare and a ringing in their ears.

"Let's not mention that to your father," said Mrs Weasley wryly.

"Why not?" Ron asked. "He'd love that thing!"

"Never mind, Ron," Ginny smirked.

They walked back around to the station, and found Mr. Weasley waving to them from where he'd parked the old Anglia.

Harry really ought to have been more suspicious about Mr. Weasley's car. _'Why would he keep it secret from his wife if he just wanted to know how it worked?'_

Mr. Weasley happily allowed Mrs Weasley to believe that muggle car boots could normally expand to accommodate six large travel chests. All the more astounding to Harry was how completely unfazed she was by all six of them being able to sit comfortably side by side on the rear bench. She even commented on how much smarter muggles were than wizards gave credit for, and Mr. Weasley never once deigned to correct her.

The drive home passed quickly and surprisingly uneventfully. It seemed that Mr. Weasley had learned properly over the summer term. They did indeed draw the odd look for driving such an old car with its wing mirrors at the front corners of the bonnet, but Harry supposed that beyond places like Privet Drive, people were a bit more accepting of, well... everything. It was only outside of that drearily perfect little road that he'd ever seen a person who wasn't white as snow, of course, in spite of the women's obsession with tanning.

By the time they got back, night was truly upon them. Mr. and Mrs Weasley levitated the trunks for them while Harry, Ron and Ginny raced inside to find a massive pile of letters.

"Oh not again!" Harry exclaimed, thinking back to the last summer. In trying to contact him in spite of his relatives' wishes that he never have anything to do with magic, or know of his heritage, Hogwarts had sent literally thousands of letters to him, so that they almost suffocated in the house before his uncle decided that they would go on the run. From sorcerers. He was a man of notable intelligence, truly.

The letters weren't from Hogwarts, though.

"I must say, I'm glad they warded the house so extensively," Mrs Weasley said as she followed them in. "All our mail has been filtered at Hogwarts before coming here."

"You don't say..." Fred said speculatively.

"Now don't you two get any funny ideas, you hear?" Mrs Weasley threatened. "Professor Dumbledore is doing us another massive favour."

"Your mother's right, boys," Mr. Weasley said sternly. "Leave this one alone. There's going to be all manner of nastiness in Harry's mail now that the whole nation knows where to send it."

"Hey, you know what this means, Harry?" Ginny gushed.

"Err..." Harry muttered, dreading the answer.

"You've got fan mail!" she laughed, gathering up a bunch of the letters and running into the lounge.

Instantaneously, the television crackled and hissed, eventually giving the weather report.

"Okay, I swear I'm not doing anything," Ginny protested.

"Not on purpose," Mr. Weasley mused. "But perhaps... Ah well. Come and take your things to your rooms, everyone!"

They raced upstairs with their trunks, Mrs Weasley's cries about being careful on the stairs echoing after them.

Ten minutes later, the three of them sat in the kitchen surrounded by barely organised mounds of parchment as they sifted through the letters. Ginny would occasionally set fire to one, answering Ron and Harry's alarmed looks with only an innocent smile. Still, it didn't take Harry long to figure out what was setting her off.

"Has every wizard in the country sent you something?" George asked distractedly, staring at the television in the other room as he wandered in.

"Seems that way," Harry shrugged. He caught a glimpse of the television before someone switched the channel — the reporter had been covering a war somewhere.

"Maybe we should join in George," Fred grinned, appearing as ever alongside his twin.

"Yeah, I've never written anyone fan mail before!" George jeered.

"Do you want a nice red pair of knickers in ours, too?" Fred asked innocently.

As if on cue, Mrs Weasley burst in, staring at the roll of parchment Harry was holding.

"Oh, hi Mum," George said. "Have you seen all this stuff?"

"... Yes, it is quite impressive," Mrs Weasley said suspiciously.

"Wonder how much stuff got filtered out at Hogwarts... " Fred mused.

"Quite a lot from what I hear," Mrs Weasley said. "According to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall is overseeing it personally."

George suddenly started snorting with laughter.

"What is it, George?" Mrs Weasley asked, bewildered.

Fred subtly made a gesture towards Harry, drawing his fingers out delicately and swinging the invisible object gently back and forth. Ginny absolutely lost it.

Mrs Weasley sighed wearily. "Yes, I'm sure it's very funny," she said, looking helplessly at George. "Be sure to gather everything up when you're done."

"Yes, Mum," they chorused. With one last suspicious look at the fanmail, Mrs Weasley left.

"So, Harry," George began.

"About those knickers..." Fred smirked, before taking a shoe to the side of the head.

* * *

"Merlin's beard, look at the wards!" Mr. Weasley called.

Harry and Ginny jumped up from the sofa where they'd been skimming through the twins' old copies of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. Through the window, they could see distant figures walking aimlessly about.

"Reporters," Mrs Weasley sighed. "Again."

"Let's show them our famous hospitality, eh Fred?" George asked.

"You read my mind, George," Fred replied.

"Calm yourselves, boys," Mr. Weasley replied. "If they start attacking the wards, Floo Dumbledore immediately."

"Do you really think they'd do that, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"They'd have to be insane to break the law so brazenly, especially where Harry is involved," Mr. Weasley shrugged. "So it's unlikely, but on the off-chance..."

"Nobody is to go near them, let alone speak to them, do you hear?" Mrs Weasley said sternly.

"Of course, mother," Percy said matter-of-factly.

"Besides, who are we to spoil their day of admiring the countryside?" Fred asked.

"Wonder how long they'll be there for," said Ron, peering out of the window.

"If they had anything better to do with their lives they wouldn't have become reporters," Ginny smirked.

"Ginny, journalism is a noble profession," Mr. Weasley said sternly.

"Sure, if you're reporting something that matters," Ginny appealed. "How often does that happen? This is the most exciting thing any of them have done in a week."

"Yeah, since they covered the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup," George grinned.

"My darling girl, there is a world of difference between the journalism in Witch Weekly and the front page of the Daily Prophet," Mr. Weasley sighed.

Ginny frowned up at him. "The Prophet published that rubbish about us in January..."

"Well, to the world at large, Harry is very important," Mr. Weasley said, sighing again. "So people are highly interested in him and his affairs. So the papers will do their best to tell the world about what Harry has for breakfast."

"There were a few people asking for interviews in that fanmail," Ron recalled.

"As if the existing attention wasn't bad enough," said Mr. Weasley. "I do hope the other kids haven't made things too hard on you all."

Ron and Ginny exchanged a look.

"No, it's been fine," Harry shrugged.

"Good," Mrs Weasley smiled. "School children can really be vicious."

"Don't worry Mum," Fred grinned.

"We take good care of them," George finished.

Suddenly, Mrs Weasley burst into tears and grabbed the twins, embracing them so tightly that they yelped.

"Mum..." Fred gasped.

"I'm so proud of you two," Mrs Weasley gushed.

"We didn't do much Mum," George protested.

"It's getting hard to breathe, though," Fred added.

Mrs Weasley sniffed and held them out at arm's length.

"You don't know how much it means to me that you're taking care of them," said Mrs Weasley, the light glinting off her wet lips as they curved shakily upwards.

"Well we could hardly leave them to fight the Lord of the Turban by themselves," George shrugged.

"What else could we have done?" Fred grinned.

"Ignored us," Ron suggested.

"Whaaaaat?" George said, scandalised.

"Our baby brother?" Fred exclaimed.

"Never!" they chorused.

Ron snorted and looked out through the window.

"I don't know about that," said Mrs Weasley, "but you were there when it counted."

"I've... uh... got a thing to do," Harry said quietly, hurrying up the stairs. That had been just a little bit awkward.

It was still a little strange to think of this as his room. He felt more like a long-term visitor. That was no fault of the Weasleys' - he felt quite at home at the Burrow - but the idea that this was his bed, and that was his door, was simply an alien concept. Even back at the Dursleys' it had been Dudley's second bedroom, not Harry's room.

His thought process was interrupted by a smart triple knock on the door.

"Come in," Harry called. "Oh, hi Percy."

"Hello Harry," Percy replied. "Are you busy?"

"Yes, I have so much nothing to do," Harry replied, gesturing to the desk. That wasn't entirely true. He had gotten a bit of holiday homework, especially from Snape, but he didn't mind so much. He'd take studying magic over the reading list Dudley had been given for the summer before he went to Smeltings, the private school Uncle Vernon was so proud to send his son to.

"Thank you for the sarcasm," Percy sighed.

"Likewise," Harry grinned. "How're you?"

"Not bad," Percy shrugged. "May I sit?"

Harry gestured to the desk chair while dropping onto the bed.

"Thank you." Percy closed his eyes for a moment. "I know that I am probably the last person you would want to trust."

"Huh?" Harry said, frowning. He couldn't honestly say that Percy was his favorite out of his new siblings, but...

"I'm not the most likeable of people," he carried on. "I'm not easygoing or particularly flexible, because I respect the system and I genuinely care about my duties and responsibilities."

"Err, Percy, are you looking for my opinion, or...?"

"What?" said Percy, apparently surprised to be interrupted. "What I'm trying to say is, I know you probably don't want to tell me about it, but I'd really appreciate you telling me about what went on on the third floor corridor."

Harry looked at Percy for a moment. From his neatly combed red hair to the clean blue robes he wore even at home, he looked every bit the prim and proper prefect he was at school. This was someone he could trust. He could trust Percy to run to the headmaster, thinking that they deserved some punishment for this misdemeanour.

"Professor Quirrell was being possessed by Lord Voldemort," Harry said firmly, holding Percy's gaze. The other boy gaped, but Harry moved on before Percy could get a word out. "He was hiding Voldemort's face under the turban."

"Stop saying the name!" Percy protested.

"He's not some kind of god," Harry replied testily. "He's just the bastard who killed my parents, and we kicked his arse down there. Or Quirrell's. It doesn't matter, we stopped him from coming back."

"Coming back?" Percy asked dumbly. He was obviously trying to believe Harry, but even Harry had to admit that the story seemed insane.

"They were hiding the Philosopher's Stone on the third floor corridor," Harry explained. "Voldemort possessed him to try to steal it from Gringotts in the summer, but it was moved to Hogwarts, so the break-in was a bust."

"I read about that," Percy frowned. "Dark wizards or witches unknown..."

"That's the one," Harry agreed, remembering the article in the Daily Prophet. "So they moved it to Hogwarts, and Voldemort was living off unicorn blood all year until he was strong enough to have a go at the Stone."

"And the reason why nobody has seen Professor Quirrell...?"

"Remember what Professor Dumbledore said at the beginning of the year?" Harry asked.

"That the third floor corridor is forbidden to all who don't wish to die a painful death?" Percy asked.

"There you go," Harry said darkly.

Percy stared at him. "You're first years! Even Fred and George are yet to learn stupefy, so how could you have subdued a Quirrell possessed by You Know Who?"

"You're forgetting Ginny," Harry shrugged. "She was like a demon down there. And I started doing some pretty weird stuff too. Like if me or Ginny ever touched Quirrell skin on skin, it was like he was rotting. It turned black and just started to fall away... And it was George that finished him. Reductor Curse cut him in half."

"No," Percy protested, shaking his head and pinching his nose. "The Reductor Curse is not a proper curse, it's only called a curse because it's so destructive."

"So...?" Harry prompted, bewildered.

"So wizards are highly resistant to normal charms, especially when they don't want to be hit," Percy explained. "Diffindo, the Severing Charm, will slice right through leather or wood, even metal if you're good. I could easily remove a leg from your bed with a single cast. But if I used it on you, I wouldn't even draw blood."

"So you're saying that the Reductor shouldn't have been able to do that?" Harry asked.

"In fact, Professor Quirrell was engaged in magical combat," Percy went on. "He was actively channeling magical energy. That would make him still more resistant. The only way that George's Reductor could have had violent effect-"

"Is if Quirrell was technically already dead or close to it," Ginny interjected.

"Was he?" said Percy, turning to face her.

"Well I was burning him, and Harry was tearing the second face off, so I'd assume so," Ginny shrugged.

Percy made a face. "I don't think I want that in any more detail."

"Probably for the best," Harry agreed.

"Hermione threw up," Ginny recalled, wincing.

A vision of Voldemort, his screaming face blackening as it rushed towards him, flashed before his eyes. Harry grunted and squeezed his pounding temples between thumb and forefinger.

"Harry...?" Ginny asked, hurrying to his side but keeping clear of touching him.

"Nothing," Harry muttered.

"Your scar though," Ginny insisted, "it's gone all red."

He could see in her expression that she'd felt the same brief headache.

"I'll get mother," Percy declared.

"Don't bother," said Harry. "This isn't the first time."

"Look, Harry," Percy sighed, sitting back down. "I asked you to tell me what happened and you've done that. I suppose it's just difficult to believe."

"You'll see soon enough," Ginny said forlornly. "We couldn't kill him. Quirrell's gone to be sure, but V-Vol... bloody hell, Voldemort, escaped."

"Why hasn't Professor Dumbledore reported this to the Ministry of Magic?" Percy burst out.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny retorted. "They'd shut down the school!"

"That's not Professor Dumbledore's decision," Percy protested.

"He's made it," Ginny said flatly. "Deal with it."

Percy huffed, getting up from the desk chair. "Well, thank you for telling me. I suppose I shall have to be extra vigilant next year."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Probably wasn't much you could do on this one, though."

"It's just that..." Percy began. "Never mind. Thanks, Harry."

They listened to his footsteps fade away as he climbed the stairs to his room.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said, tugging at his arm.

"What?" Harry groaned, flopping back on his bed.

Ginny giggled. "You cannot be tired."

"No, I'm just enjoying not moving," Harry sighed happily. "It's really underrated."

For a moment, Ginny contented herself by trying to yank him to his feet, or his knees. She had little success though, and her determined little smirk quickly became a disappointed frown.

"Ugh, you're heavy," she pouted, dropping his hand.

"Yeah, and my wrist hurts like hell, so thanks," Harry grumbled good-naturedly.

"Luna's going to be fishing for plimpies in the stream," said Ginny. Suddenly, she threw herself at him, one hand going to the side of his neck and the other driving into his ribs.

"Ack! Ginny!" Harry wheezed.

"Get up you lazy bum!" Ginny laughed.

"Dammit," said Harry breathlessly. He grabbed her by her wrists, rolling himself on top of her and pinning her down.

Ginny favoured him with a challenging smirk. Her little pink tongue darted out to moisten her smooth, pink lips... There was a small flash, and Harry was thrown backwards just hard enough that he landed on his feet a metre away.

"That's not fair," Harry griped.

"Don't care," Ginny sniffed haughtily. "Let's go."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ginny. For her part, she pretended not to notice, pulling some of her hair over her shoulder and examining it closely.

"Ginny, are you going to sit there while I get changed?" Harry asked.

"Sure, why not?" she replied unashamedly. He could feel her anxiety though, clinging to her like a blanket of oil.

"Fine," Harry smirked, pulling his pyjama top off. Ginny kept her eyes averted as he did so, but then...

"Eep!" she squeaked, disappearing through the door without a backwards glance.

Harry looked in the mirror. The boy staring back at him was completely unrecognisable from the skinny wretch who'd left Privet Drive on a promise and a prayer. He felt a sudden urge to test his new strength, but in the absence of an appropriate punching bag the urge faded. Pillows were well and good for taking out your frustrations, as Ron had demonstrated to them earlier in the year, but with no resistance to break through he might as well shadow box. _'Maybe I could make a punching bag...'_

Straightening his t-shirt, Harry rushed downstairs, finding Ginny waiting at the door.

"Mum won't let us go until the reporters leave," she pouted.

"So you dragged me out of there to...?" Harry sighed.

"Wait for the reporters to leave?" Ginny shrugged. "I didn't plan for this."

"Won't Luna finish fishing?" Harry asked.

"She won't have started yet," Ginny explained. "And she'd be there for a couple of hours anyway. But these guys literally have no lives."

"How about we... persuade them to leave?" Harry said, grinning.

* * *

"This cloak is the best thing ever," Ginny whispered.

"Just remember, no attacking them," Harry said firmly.

"Sure," Ginny replied, turning to give him a challenging smirk. "Wouldn't want them to get hurt playing with _fire_."

"It's my favorite thing to do," Harry murmured, running his fingers through her hair. A flame licked at his fingers.

"Harry..." Ginny whispered.

"Let's do this before we're missed," Harry replied.

With their bond active, the cloak was no burden. They seemed to instinctively know when the other would turn, running in perfect step. Ginny grinned up at him, a mutual rush of adrenaline and serotonin lighting the same fire in their hearts that they always got when crossing the boundary of what was strictly allowed.

Eyes aglow with aethereal power, Ginny reached out towards a cameraman. He stumbled on firm ground, and the massive camera counterbalanced, moving rapidly towards the journalist standing with him.

"Merlin's saggy ballsack, Reeger!" she cried. "Be careful how you swing that camera!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Reeger grunted.

 ** _'_** ** _That was vicious!'_** Harry projected, laughing.

 ** _'_** ** _Your turn,'_** Ginny replied challengingly.

But when Harry looked around for a target, he found that the reporters were already Apparating away.

"Back to the house, quick!" Ginny hissed.

They broke into a dead sprint, synchronised footfalls pounding the earth until Harry felt Ginny's grip on his hand tighten, and he felt the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a tube. The landscape around him was replaced with his bedroom, and he whipped the cloak off them to find Ginny flushed and panting, sweat beading on her forehead as she swayed on unsteady feet.

"Woah," Harry breathed, helping her to the bed. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"

Ginny shook her head, clearly trying and failing to suppress her heavy breathing.

All of a sudden, she was pinning him to the wall with her lips.

Harry blinked. **_'Um?'_**

Ginny wasn't paying attention. Her hands were buried in his hair and his shirt, and Harry's mind went delightfully blank.

There was a noise from the direction of the door, and Ginny pulled away slightly to look at the intruder, his lower lip between her teeth.

"Oh," Ron squeaked, disappearing.

Ginny looked back up at him, smirking. It was all Harry could focus on. His mind was full of fog, and his vision tunnelled.

As Ginny let go of his lip, he forced her back until they fell over the bed. The hot flush on her cheeks spread to turn her whole face bright red. Spurred on by a rising feeling of urgency, Harry kissed his way along her jaw and down onto her neck.

"Harry!" Ginny gasped quietly, clenching her fist in his hair. "I..."

There was something in her voice, some desperation that drove him completely insane.

She pulled his mouth back to hers, and he felt her moist tongue against his lips.

And Harry knew they had to stop. He pulled away, leaving Ginny looking and feeling confused and frustrated.

"Why did you stop?"

Well his trousers were feeling uncomfortably tight for one thing.

"I just think we're a bit young," Harry said awkwardly. "You know, to do much more than we were already…"

Ginny sat up, looking conflicted. "I..."

Just then, Mrs Weasley bustled in with her wand out, throwing charms around with routine efficiency. "Harry, Ginny, you can go and see Luna if you'd like. The reporters are all gone."

"Thanks Mummy," Ginny smiled, yanking Harry out of the room before he could so much as open his mouth.

 ** _'_** ** _She probably noticed how messy we are,'_** Harry pointed out.

 ** _'_** ** _Ron's already told her, genius,'_** she teased. **_'Why do you think I jumped on you like that?'_**

An alibi, then. Nobody could ever accuse Ginny of lacking cunning. Harry wondered if perhaps the Hat had considered her for Slytherin, too.

 ** _'_** ** _You couldn't resist my roguish charms?'_** Harry said.

Ginny snorted. **_'Let's go with that then.'_**

They burst out into the summer sun, delighting in its gentle touch on their skin. The cloak was light and fairly unobtrusive, but going out under it just wasn't the same as feeling the soft caress of a cool breeze.

"I... feel..." Ginny exulted, jumping into the air and floating like a feather on the wind. "Fantastic!"

A shockwave exploded outwards from her. Harry raised his hands, and it passed seamlessly around him, blasting the grass flat and making trees sway drunkenly even a hundred or so metres away.

Harry laughed. "Keep that up and the muggles will think there's a storm coming."

"There _is_!" she cried, shockwaves emanating from her with increasing frequency and intensity. "WOOOOHOOOOO!"

"Ginny..." Harry grunted, far too quietly for her to hear him over the cacophony. Yet she relented, returning gracefully to the ground. "You're getting strong."

"Damn right," said Ginny. "You'd better watch out, mister."

"Come on you nutcase," Harry said facetiously.

"Oi!" Ginny cried.

Harry grinned sidelong at her. "So where are we gonna meet Luna?"

"What if I told you I just wanted to get us out of the house?" Ginny asked slowly.

 _'Panic?'_ Harry grinned to himself. Considering what she'd been willing to do _inside_ the house... "Look, Ginny..."

"You wouldn't be so hesitant with Katie, would you?" Ginny prodded.

Squeezing his temples between finger and thumb, Harry turned to look at her. She was grinning mischievously at him. "You're so obsessed with her..." said Harry. "Maybe you should ask her out."

Ginny blushed brilliantly. "Harry I don't... I'm not... Wait. Why? Would you like that?"

Harry blinked.

"To see me with another girl?"

"I... uh... what?" Harry spluttered.

"Would you like me to kiss her in front of you?" Ginny said, advancing on him slowly. "To nibble on her neck and caress her soft... _hair_?"

"Ginny..." Harry was blushing himself now. It took all of his self-control to dismiss the imagery that flashed now through his mind.

"You didn't deny it," Ginny grinned. "Are you into that, Harry?"

"Ginny!" said Harry. "What's gotten into you today?"

"I'm only pulling your leg," said Ginny. Through the bond, however, she was a churning mess.

"Ginny, seriously," Harry urged, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Stop. We're not ready for..."

"Says who?" Ginny said stubbornly.

"Says _me_ ," Harry insisted. "This is crazy."

"What are you scared of?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not scared," Harry shrugged. "We're eleven and ten years old, what are you expecting us to do? I'm really happy with the way things are and I thought you were too."

"I am!" Ginny said urgently. "Harry I..."

Leaning in, Harry kissed her softly on the cheek. "Then what's the problem?"

Ginny's expression turned to one of despair. Focusing on her, Harry could feel anxiety - a raw, churning fear.

"Ginny..." Harry said slowly. "What are you afraid of?"

She turned away from him. Encircling her in his arms, he rested his chin on her shoulder, feeling her cheek warm against his own.

"Ginny, if you're upset..." Harry said.

"I'm fine, okay?" Ginny insisted, squirming in his grip. "Can we just go see Luna?"

"Ginny, you're talking to me, remember?" said Harry. "I know something's wrong."

"Well you shouldn't!" Ginny fumed. "It's not right!"

Harry let go of her, and Ginny's anger collapsed instantly.

"Harry I didn't mean that," Ginny said mournfully.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Let's go see Luna."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they found Luna sitting in the shade of a weeping willow at the bottom of one final hill, setting up her equipment. They jogged down the hill, only slowing as they reached her. Still digging around in a box, the blonde paid them no mind. She was using a rod, which Harry found particularly puzzling.

"You've been fighting," Luna said in her usual, tranquil voice. There was no question in it.

"Not now, Luna," said Ginny, firmly.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Hello Harry Potter," she replied. "Did you enjoy your victory?"

"Uhhh..." Harry murmured, looking to Ginny for some clue that she'd informed Luna of the Quirrell incident. His girlfriend wasn't being particularly forthcoming. Luna just kept looking into his eyes. "What, sorry?"

"Your victory over He Who Must Not Be Named," Luna said, unperturbed.

"My what?" Harry asked, very perturbed. Almost nobody knew that Voldemort had been down there.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Perhaps you are still recovering."

"Luna, how do you know about that?" Harry asked. _'Is every female going to make life difficult for me today?'_

"Something happened at Hogwarts which put you and a couple of friends in the Hospital Wing," Luna said, ticking off on her fingers. "Nobody knows what actually happened. A professor has gone missing who was recently on a journey through obscure parts of Europe. Professor Dumbledore is covering up whatever happened. Minister Fudge hasn't unleashed his army of heliopaths. You're Harry Potter. It's quite obvious really, although I suppose I didn't know for sure until you confirmed it."

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The ever-present, secretive little smile on Luna's face wasn't helping him in that regard. "I don't know, Luna, I was too busy panicking and hitting things at the time to think about it."

"Interesting," said Luna.

"Luna, why are you fishing with a rod?" Harry asked. "Isn't there some magic way?"

"If there is then I've not yet learned how to do it, and would not be allowed to as I am underage," Luna said. "Besides, I've been quite taken with this kind of fishing since I first heard a non-magical talking about it."

"Right," said Harry.

"Did you only just get here, Luna?" Ginny asked, still sounding a little gloomy.

"Yes Ginny," Luna said, her tone unchanging. "That is why I am unpacking the fishing equipment."

They sat around chatting for a while as Luna affixed an odd assortment of fruits and things Harry wasn't too sure about to her hook as bait. The River Otter was just gathering strength at this point - it was about five metres across, and just fast enough that it could be heard. Putting a hand in, Harry found the water cool and pleasant.

Plop.

Luna had cast her hook into the river, and was watching it contentedly. Looking around, it was easy to understand why Luna enjoyed this. This place was quiet without being lonely. With the birds chirping in the trees, and the buzz of insects among the flowers, it would be all too easy to just slip into a day-dream for a couple of hours. It was such a beautiful day...

"Looking forward to September?" Harry asked.

Luna turned slightly to look him in the eye, that infuriating, absent-minded little smile playing at her thin lips. "I can hardly look back to it."

"You could try using a mirror," Harry replied.

"Or I could turn around," said Luna. "A man who resorts to a tool for the most menial task will soon be unable to do without."

"Is this just a magic thing?" Harry asked, bemused. Both girls stared at him. "You girls don't really talk like muggle ten-year-olds."

"Yes, magic has been known to excite the helical cingulate," Luna nodded.

Harry squinted at her, now absolutely sure that she was taking the piss.

"Have you been attacked by wrackspurts, Harry Potter?" Luna asked. "Oh, please wait a moment."

She then jerked the rod around in a series of seemingly random, tiny motions before stopping dead still. Harry and Ginny waited with baited breath.

The end of the rod bent down towards the water.

With one sharp, strong heave, Luna brought the round-looking fish flying out of the river to land with a soft smack on the grass. The thing was flipping about madly, a bit of the hook poking out of the side of its mouth. Ginny inhaled sharply.

Luna moved quickly, grabbing the fish firmly and holding it against the tree, while the other hand brought a rock to bear on its head. The fish's struggles died instantly, and Luna dropped it in a bucket. The fish quickly frosted over.

"Bad luck," said Luna.

Ginny sniffled slightly.

"Hey," Harry said softly, putting an arm around her and frantically looking for something comforting to say. "It died quickly, it probably didn't feel a thing."

"I know, I just don't usually watch," Ginny muttered.

"Ginny is highly empathic with all animals except humans," Luna commented.

"Hey!" Ginny protested.

Harry smirked, kissing her flushed cheek. She blushed to the roots of her hair.

"So how often do you do this, Luna?" Harry asked.

"Every three weeks or so in the warmer months," Luna replied, attaching fresh bait to the hook. "The catch isn't so good in winter, but I might still do it if I feel like it."

"And how often do you feel like it?" said Harry.

"Take the number of days there's snow and add them together," Ginny smirked.

Harry poked her in the ribs, and she squirmed adorably in his arms.

"It was... different, this year," Luna said softly, eyes dropping in an uncharacteristically explicit display of emotion.

"Oh Luna, I didn't realise!" Ginny gasped, dashing over to asphyxiate her friend with something that only barely resembled a hug.

Harry sat back and contemplated what he'd tell the police when they arrived. In the meantime, Ginny was jabbering hysterically into Luna's shoulder while the blonde stared at him in what he assumed was a plea for help. Harry shrugged helplessly back at Luna. Her resulting expression was most definitely resignation.

"Ginny, I am running out of air," Luna informed her calmly.

"Oh!" Ginny squeaked, jumping backwards.

Luna didn't even cough, she just resumed normal operation as though nothing had happened. Ginny looked close to tears though.

"Please forgive me, Luna?" she insisted.

"I never blamed you," Luna responded. "You have been at Hogwarts with Harry Potter, I never expected you to..."

"Well you should have!" Ginny said stubbornly. "What kind of friend would I be otherwise?"

What Luna had said earlier about Ginny's empathy sprang to Harry's mind. _'Perhaps she's not too far off...'_

"Oh, is that your owl, Harry Potter?" Luna asked.

True enough, when Harry turned, Hedwig was gliding down to them, her immaculate white coat shining in the sunlight.

"Hey girl," Harry said. Hedwig perched gently upon his shoulder, nipping affectionately at his ear. "All of this and I haven't been spending nearly enough time with you."

One of her wings brushed over his chest.

"You saw that, did you?" Harry winced. "I'm okay now, I promise."

Hedwig hooted angrily.

"No, we didn't let the other guy walk away," Harry grinned ferally. "Anyway, this is Luna. Luna, this is Hedwig."

"Hello," said Luna.

"Twwoooo," said Hedwig.

"She says 'hello yourself'," Harry grinned.

"I know," Luna muttered, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

"I haven't brought any treats with me, girl," Harry apologised. "I don't know if you're into fish..."

Hedwig extended her wings briefly and gave a brief hoot that Harry took to be a shrug and a 'meh'. She flapped over to the bucket, which now contained two of the plimpies, which the Lovegoods apparently cooked up in a soup. A hoot, a few mutterings from Luna, and Hedwig was back on his shoulder, preening herself leisurely.

"Uh," Ginny said, not having moved since Hedwig's arrival.

Harry snorted. Hedwig hooted. Luna smiled slightly.

"Yeah, never mind," Ginny muttered, going bright red.

"Oh Ginny, did your mother charm you?" Luna asked.

"What?" Ginny asked. Realisation dawned with an, "Oh crap." She began frantically checking her arms for something. "I burn really easily, so Mum usually puts a kind of Shielding Charm on me before I go out in the summer."

Harry didn't see anything, but that didn't please her.

"It doesn't usually show up so fast anyway," Ginny explained. "I've just got to hope that I've been shielding myself without realising it all this time."

"Hey, that's another thing," Harry frowned. "Why haven't we got in trouble with the Ministry or whatever for you Apparating us?"

"Meh," Ginny shrugged.

"How often exactly do you flaunt your power?" Luna teased.

"I do not flaunt anything!" Ginny said haughtily.

"Nah, you don't need to," Harry grinned.

Ginny blushed again and went quiet.

They sat like that in silence for a while, with Luna systematically reeling in plimpies.

After the seventh fish, either Hedwig was getting bored or she'd spotted something. Passing a wing gently over his cheek in farewell, she took off, flying high above the trees.

"Luna, are you carrying all of this yourself?" Harry suddenly burst out.

She turned slowly to look at him. "Featherweight Charms."

What made it worse was not the way Ginny lost it, though it was probably the reason why she did - Luna's tone hadn't varied one jot.

"Err, yeah," Harry said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

Luna reeled in two more fish, and then she was taking the rod apart. True enough, when everything was put away, she picked up the case and bucket like they were nothing. The walk back up to the Lovegood house was more subdued than Harry's prior romps across the countryside with Ginny. Luna seemed to contrast her in every possible way, carrying herself with a kind of easy grace that Ginny had no patience for. Ginny bounded around like a mad thing, jabbering about this or that that whoever had been doing for the Easter holiday, while Luna listened passively. To Harry, it seemed ludicrously one-sided to be considered a conversation, but it was the only way he'd known them to interact, and they were clearly very close...

"Would you like to come in?" Luna asked as they crested the rise.

"Oh yes please," Ginny grinned. "We can force-feed Harry gillywater."

"Great, yeah, how did I see that coming?" Harry grumbled.

Ginny giggled, and Harry thought that Luna was going to let one escape, but her mouth only twitched.

"Is your dad home?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes, he's busy reviewing this month's issue of The Quibbler," said Luna.

"Oh yeah, I noticed the sign last time," Harry mused. "I've not heard of it though."

"It doesn't have the kind of readership that the Prophet or Witch Weekly gets, but then, most people would rather be spoon-fed by their government than dare to have an independent thought."

Harry squinted at Luna. Her tone had barely changed, but that was unmistakably a tirade.

"Technically, the Ministry doesn't own any of Witch Weekly," Ginny sighed.

Luna turned to look at her. There was nothing new in her standard, slightly vacant expression, no recrimination in her protuberant eyes, but Ginny put her hands in the air.

"Hey, I'm not defending it, I'm just saying," Ginny grinned.

Luna raised the bucket of plimpies to Harry's face. "Do these gulping plimpies look real to you, Harry Potter?"

"I don't know Luna," said Harry, "I mean, if my eyes aren't real, how can the things they show me be real?"

"Well that depends on your point of view," Luna said, lowering the bucket.

"Just so we don't need any more puns or whatever the hells that was," Ginny said, giving Harry a funny look, "the Prophet said Luna's dad's discovery of the gulping plimpy was a fanciful story invented to help sell the first issues of the Quibbler."

"Um, not to be funny or anything, Luna, but why would a new species of fish be worth a fuss?" Harry asked.

"Because nobody had discovered a new magical species of anything in twenty three years," said Luna.

"Twenty three?" Harry gaped.

"The only places we can't be sure of are the bottom of the sea, and really deep underground," said Ginny, "but everyone was pretty sure we found everything."

"And Daddy wasn't Newton Scamander," Luna added. "He had only just finished at Hogwarts, and wasn't the most influential of young graduates. It was easier to discredit him than to fund him."

"Newton...?" said Harry.

"He's a pretty big deal in magizoology," Ginny shrugged.

Harry snorted.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing," Harry sniggered. "It's just, wizards are always tacking 'magic' onto everything. One Thousand _Magical_ Herbs and Fungi, _Magical_ Drafts and Potions, _magizoology_ , Care of _Magical_ Creatures ... it's like you're all worried you'll forget that you're wizards."

"Yeah, I never thought of it like that before," Ginny mused.

Luna, on the other hand, was grinning.


	21. 21 - Recovery

Harry stared out through the rain-splattered window to what had been perfectly welcoming countryside twelve hours ago. Now, all Harry saw was the unbroken sheets of summer rain, turning the fields of lush grass into a dirty brown mess.

Ron sighed next to him. His friend had also turned to looking wistfully out of the window, because Ginny was holding them prisoner in the kitchen so they could 'help her write a letter to Hermione'.

"And you can tell your dad we all thought his car was very... impressive," said Ginny.

"How has this letter filled an entire roll of parchment?" Ron groaned. "You saw her literally five days ago."

"Here, let me have a look," Harry smirked.

"Ah!" said Ginny. Harry got up. "Nuh-uh!"

Harry tried to dart around the table but found himself glued to the spot. "You've got to be kidding me..."

He was staring up at a high stone ceiling, his wand falling from his hand to clatter on the floor below.

 _Burn._

"Unggg-aaaahh!" Harry gasped as he fell to his knees. His scar was burning again. Small hands laid him carefully on the ground and he found himself looking up into Ginny's big brown eyes.

"Harry?" she asked softly. "Are you okay?"

"Mum?!" Ron called.

"Yes, I'm on the floor because I wanted to see what it smelled of," said Harry.

Ginny ignored him. "Your scar's all red..."

"What's wrong, R- oh my goodness, Harry are you alright?" Mrs Weasley said, pulling her wand out and passing it methodically over him.

"Why do people keep asking me that?" said Harry.

"Because you're sniffing the carpet," Ginny smiled tightly.

"It's like roses down here," said Harry.

"I don't see anything wrong with you," Mrs Weasley muttered. "Harry, can you tell me what happened?"

"I... I was back down under the third floor corridor," Harry frowned.

"Oh you poor thing," Mrs Weasley crooned. "I'll be right back."

She verily flew out of the room. Harry let his head drop to the floor with a thud.

"Wasn't really planning on going anywhere," Harry muttered. Now that everything was slowing down he could feel a bit of a headache coming on.

"Sure you're alright, mate?" Ron asked.

"Probably better than I look," said Harry.

"When don't you?" Ron grinned.

"Ha bloody ha," Harry said. He turned to look at Ginny, but she was frowning at a blank bit of wall.

"But Harry, what did you see?" Ron asked.

"I saw-" said Harry.

"Us getting frozen in mid-air," said Ginny. "I froze you, and you had an attack. Last time, we were talking about the body and you got a headache."

Harry gaped up at her. "How...?"

"It's only logical," Ginny said, looking down at him with a half-exasperated, half-amused expression.

' _The bond,'_ Harry thought. How ironic for such a thing to slip his mind. She knew how he'd reacted to these little prompts, and she was putting two and two together. "So what's happening to me?"

"I don't know," said Ginny, wringing her hands. "I..."

"I've spoken to Professor Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley said, rushing in and helping Harry carefully to his feet. "Madam Pomfrey will be here to see you tomorrow morning."

"Mum..." Harry protested.

"Harry, you went through a lot down there," said Mrs Weasley.

"But she already fixed me," said Harry, pointing at his chest.

Mrs Weasley shuddered. "No more buts, Harry, Madam Pomfrey is going to see to you and that's final."

Shrugging helplessly, Harry apologised and trudged up to his room. If he was going to spend the foreseeable future being poked and prodded and having his sanity questioned, he might as well get some homework done.

* * *

Perhaps he had been too dazzled, by magic and by Hogwarts and by the happiness he'd found with the Weasleys. Regardless of why, he hadn't noticed or had even ignored the fact that he had simply glided through the most shocking events he could imagine. And maybe he was paying for that now.

Harry thought back to that night in the forest. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the silvery blood dripping from what must have been Quirrell's mouth. Even now that memory elicited a shiver.

A faint moan reminded him with a jolt that they shared the house with a ghoul in the attic.

And the situation with Voldemort seemed patently ridiculous. Why was it that even when Dumbledore had left the castle, nobody was standing guard? They'd seen someone feeding on unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. They knew that someone had managed to break into Gringotts and get away. Why the lack of concern? Were they expecting...

A headache Harry hadn't even realised was building gripped him around the temples and tore at his skull. Grimacing, Harry buried his head in his pillow, but no matter what he did the pain only grew worse. Taking a deep breath, Harry focused on the pain, imagining it leaving him. After all, magic was about intent. The pain eased, and Harry let out the breath with a sigh.

Hedwig landed gently on his chest, staring down at him with lamp-like, amber eyes. A soft call and a cocked head expressed her concern. Reaching out, Harry stroked her thick, soft plumage with the back of a finger.

"Is it always going to be like that, Hedwig?" Harry asked. "Will he ever go away?"

She called again. ' _I'll be here,'_ Harry imagined she was saying.

"I know, Hedwig," Harry said. "You're a great friend."

As he drifted off, the weight on his chest never once shifted.

* * *

"Urk..." Harry complained, blinking wearily. Hedwig was gone, but the sunlight was back, tearing into his head mercilessly. He dressed slowly, clumsily, and staggered downstairs.

"Morning, Harry," Fred and George grinned.

"Up bright and early, I see," George added.

"Eat up, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, putting two sausages and a fried egg on his plate. "Madam Pomfrey will be here in an hour or so."

"Harry, your shirt's on backwards," George muttered.

Harry murmured his thanks, withdrawing his arms from the sleeves and rotating the shirt.

Ron snorted as he slid into a chair opposite Harry. "Mate, your shirt's on backwards."

Harry glared at the twins, but in his bleary-eyed state he probably just looked stoned.

George shrugged at him, smirking. Looking down the front of his shirt, he found that the label was in fact in front of him. After repeating the procedure, Harry felt so twisted up that he couldn't get comfortable on his seat. The twins just sniggered to themselves and went on with their breakfast.

"Hey losers," Ginny grinned, hugging Fred and George in turn.

"Morning, midget," they said back.

"Up early," Fred noted.

"Yep," she said, dropping into the seat next to Harry's and kissing his cheek briefly. His skin felt pleasantly warm where her lips had touched him, and he couldn't suppress his grin.

"Aren't they cute?" Fred said.

"Like two little angels," George added.

"Aren't they just?" Mrs Weasley sighed, coming back in levitating a large omelette. Harry felt his cheeks burn as he thought about what the two little angels had been doing not so long ago.

Ginny bounced up out of her seat to give her mother a big hug. "Morning, Mum."

"Good morning, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, returning the hug before lowering the omelette to the table.

For his part, Ron hadn't stopped eating since he sat down. His redheaded friend could strike an uncanny resemblance to a Hoover sometimes.

It was half an hour after he finished eating that they heard the voice in the living room.

"Molly? Arthur?"

Within minutes a middle-aged Poppy Pomfrey was standing before him, Mrs Weasley just a step behind. She was wearing the same medical uniform she always did, and was carrying a large bag with a strange symbol on the side. The design consisted of a wand and a bone with a funny pattern behind them, embossed in the leather.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Morning, Madam Pomfrey," he grinned back. He couldn't help it. He realised now that Madam Pomfrey had been, or was now again, a very beautiful woman, and she seemed rather uncomfortable with having her youth returned to her.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Weasley?" she said.

"Gud, funks, Mud-"

"Ronald, don't speak with your mouth full like that," Mrs Weasley said wearily.

"I assume the rest of you have been fine since the... incident?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," they chorused.

"Excellent," she smiled. "Well then, Mr. Potter, is there anywhere in particular you would prefer to go?"

Harry shrugged, looking to Mrs Weasley for help.

"Why don't you take Madam Pomfrey up to your room, Harry?" said Mrs Weasley.

Ginny squeezed his hand. He hadn't even realised that he was anxious. Needing to see a doctor was a sign of weakness and failure – even with all that the Dursleys had inflicted upon him, he couldn't remember ever going to the doctor's.

"How have you been, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey said.

"Fine," Harry muttered. "Err, how are you, Madam Pomfrey?"

She smiled wanly, "Far better physically than mentally." He wondered whether she was talking about herself or him.

When they reached his room, Harry offered her the desk chair, choosing the edge of the bed for himself.

"Thank you," Madam Pomfrey said, pulling the seat closer to him. "You have a nice room here — unusually tidy for a young boy."

Harry shrugged. The truth was, seeing as how he always had to clear up after himself outside of Hogwarts, and didn't have much space in the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive, he'd become used to keeping things orderly. And there was the fact that he didn't have many treasured possessions to put around the room. His Nimbus took pride of place, sitting on a makeshift bracket above the bed.

The school nurse sighed heavily. "Mr. Potter, I know this is awkward for you. You barely know me, though you've arguably given me one of the most lavish gifts known to wizardkind."

Harry blushed, refraining from examining the side-effects of the healing ritual.

"Honestly, I would have recommended you all be visited by a psychotherapy specialist," she went on. "You've all been through a lot, Mr. Potter, and while I am a qualified healer, I am not qualified in the mind arts. However, Professor Dumbledore thinks it best that you talk to someone familiar."

"What about everyone else, Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"Arrangements will be made for them to be seen later," Madam Pomfrey assured him. A small, but genuine smile crossed her face. Harry didn't think he'd seen her really smile before. "You seem to have settled in comfortably with the Weasleys."

"This is probably my second favourite place in the world," said Harry.

"The first being Hogwarts, I presume?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Of course," Harry grinned.

For a while, they just talked, and Harry felt himself relaxing. He hadn't been aware that he was quite so tense and anxious in the first place. Madam Pomfrey was a little austere compared to Laetitia; Harry didn't get quite the same impression when he spoke with Madam Pomfrey as when he talked to Laetitia, of speaking to a friend. He did enjoy the conversation though. Perhaps it was the whole restored youth thing making her uncomfortable. Or maybe it was that she spent so long in her professional manner with students at Hogwarts that she couldn't speak to him informally. Regardless, Harry knew that he could trust her. After all, nobody had found out about Ron's hand besides Malfoy, and that wasn't her fault, was it?

"And you have a Quidditch pitch here?" she asked.

"Oh yes, it's hidden through those trees," said Harry. "We can't fly too high, or the Muggles might see."

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said. "Less chance of you breaking your necks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've never fallen off my broom."

"No, but I did hear about you jumping," Madam Pomfrey reminded him.

"I won the game," he shrugged.

"Do you truly not value your life, Potter?" the nurse sighed.

"I... yes, of course I do," Harry frowned.

"Then why do you risk it so frequently?" she pressed.

"I don't really think about it like that," Harry said. "I mean, in that Quidditch game I was just... caught up in the moment, I guess. I forgot how high up I was. But all the other things..."

He thought of the troll on Halloween, the encounter in the Forbidden Forest, helping Hagrid with Norbert and pursuing Voldemort down the trapdoor.

"I don't throw my life away," he said firmly.

"Then why did you go down that trapdoor?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Madam Pomfrey, you didn't see him drinking that unicorn's blood," Harry said. "He knew how to get past every single obstacle, and when we tried to tell Professor McGonagall..."

There was a troll banging on the inside of his skull.

"Potter?"

"It hurts," he groaned. "Whenever I think about it."

She withdrew something from her bag.

 _Danger._

The nurse seemed to struggle with herself for a while before replacing it and pulling something else out.

The urgent warning in his mind faded away, and Harry was incredibly grateful. On top of his headache he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Drink this, Potter."

It was a vial of some purple liquid. Harry drained it, coughing at the acid-like irritation to the back of his throat and the sourness of its taste. Almost instantly, his head began to clear.

"A headache relief potion," she said, giving the inside of her bag an angry, confused look.

"Are you okay, Madam Pomfrey?" said Harry.

The nurse looked back at him, appearing slightly lost. "I was going to give you the wrong potion for a moment, Potter. I do apologise."

"The wrong potion?" Harry asked.

"Yes..." she muttered. "So strange, I'm not even sure why I brought it with me... Anyway, how are you feeling, Potter?"

"Better, thank you," said Harry.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Why do I keep getting these headaches whenever I think about what happened?" Harry asked.

"My professional opinion?" the nurse asked. It was subtle, but as his awareness restored itself, his Seeker's eye picked it up — Madam Pomfrey twitched. It seemed like every facial muscle, and some of the others too, just gave a little jerk. "It's probably some form of post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Oh," Harry frowned, deciding to file away these little anomalies for later. "What does that mean, Madam Pomfrey?"

"It means that you will experience longer-term consequences of going through a traumatic event, like your encounter with Professor Quirrell," she said.

"You mean Vol-" Harry began.

"Please, Mr. Potter, I implore you not to say his name," she said. She took a moment to gather herself, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, why people were so afraid of a name. "You might relive it through nightmares and flashbacks, have trouble sleeping and concentrating, and you might feel irrationally guilty... lonely... or irritable. There can be symptoms like depression, headaches and anxiety, too. But it differs greatly from person to person."

"How long will that last?" Harry asked, thinking of the nightmares he'd had about the night his parents were murdered.

"It could be weeks, months or years, I'm afraid, Potter," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I am sorry. There are obviously things that we can do to help, but there's no spell to make problems like this go away."

"Because it's to do with my mind?" Harry frowned.

"Potter, you're not mad," Pomfrey smiled wanly. "Your mind is not in some way _wrong_. It has simply suffered through something that it wasn't prepared for. I am glad that your friends have not shown symptoms already, but it is entirely possible that they could display symptoms weeks, months, or even years from now."

Harry put his head in his hands. Had he condemned the people he cared about most to a psychiatric ward?

"Potter, this isn't your fault," Madam Pomfrey said. "From what you've told me, your motivations were honourable and sound. Whatever effects the experience has had on you and your friends, you will get through it together. And I shall be here to help you. Always."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Harry sighed.

"I can probably help for a slightly longer always too, considering this..." she said, looking herself over despairingly.

"You look great, Madam Pomfrey," Harry grinned.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," she said wryly. "It is good to know that an eighty-year-old woman can still elicit compliments from young boys."

Harry gaped.

"I forget that you were raised a Muggle," Madam Pomfrey laughed. "Wizards and witches have longer lifespans depending on their own power. Professor Dumbledore, for instance, is soon to turn one hundred-eleven years old, and he still moves with the ease of youth, if he has lost some of its appearance."

Speech continued to evade him, and Madam Pomfrey continued to laugh. It was funny, but Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her laugh before. His spirits were raised just to hear it.

"You must have taken at least thirty years off me, Mr. Potter," she said, gently snorting out the last of her mirth. "And the brightest, most experienced healers at St. Mungo's are completely clueless as to how."

"You're welcome," Harry said, his brain clicking back into gear.

Madam Pomfrey sighed again, and Harry had the curious feeling that she wasn't the least bit grateful for her restored youth.

"Now," she said, "as to how I can help you with this, the best medicine I can offer is to talk about it. There are potions that will ease your mind, and I am requesting use of a Pensieve so that we can go back and look at it directly, but the only way to return you to the way you were is for you to fully come to terms with what happened. And you cannot do that without talking it through."

"Sorry," Harry said, "a Pensieve?"

"A device that allows you to access a memory," Madam Pomfrey explained. "You don't really relive it. You become a spectator, watching the events unfold. It is as if you are experiencing it first-hand, but cannot affect it."

"So, a bit like watching a movie?" Harry asked.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "I believe it would be equivalent to being inside of a movie, yes."

"Wow..." Harry muttered. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to the distant noises of Ron and Ginny feeding the chickens. "So, when you say I should talk it through..."

"From the beginning, Harry, whenever you think that might be," Madam Pomfrey said. "Time is no issue here. I will do all that I can to help you."

Harry let out a long breath. The beginning seemed like such an abstract concept. Where did this begin? Did it begin with Voldemort feeding on the unicorn? No... no, events were well underway by then. The break-in at Gringotts then? That was a beginning, to be sure, but truly this began with Voldemort's motivation for stealing the stone in the first place.

"It guess it began with a scream, and a bright green flash of light."

* * *

"Won't you stay for lunch, Poppy?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Oh, I shouldn't," she said. "I don't know anyone who'd turn down your cooking, Molly, but I need to report in at St. Mungo's soon."

"If you're sure," Mrs Weasley said. "There is plenty to go around."

"I am I'm afraid," the nurse sighed. "Perhaps next time?"

"Oh yes," Mrs Weasley agreed. "When will that be, then?"

"I was thinking of making this a weekly appointment," said Madam Pomfrey. "It's better if we do it regularly."

"That sounds great," Mrs Weasley said. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'd... I'd like that," said Harry. The nurse gave him a brief, but warm, smile.

Harry felt absolutely drained. It felt as though he'd poured his soul out over the last three hours — he'd started with the vision he kept getting of his mother's death, but while he'd been planning to jump from there to getting his Hogwarts letter, he'd ended up trawling through his childhood with the Dursleys. They were a curse on him. He'd thought he could simply escape their memory, but they kept cropping up like a weed. And he'd talked about what seemed like every beating, scolding, insult and Harry Hunting episode he could remember.

Madam Pomfrey was a good listener, and he wasn't sure whether that gladdened or annoyed him. No matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn't stop himself from puking up all his experiences in a horrific, neverending stream, and she was so understanding and compassionate... He _wanted_ her to despise him - wanted her to think less of him for what he had been. Why? Was he some kind of degenerate? Was he so used to the Dursleys' treatment of him that he actually believed he deserved it...?

Harry's face fell, even as Madam Pomfrey stepped into the fireplace, and he ran back up to the bathroom to spill what was left of his breakfast into the toilet. Flushing it away and cleaning himself up, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

 _Worthless freak!_

 _Your parents got what was coming to them._

 _Get in your cupboard!_

 _You should thank me for those marks._

 _Freeloading freak like you should be kicked out on the streets._

Harry smacked his head against the wall.

"I am _not_ worthless!" he hissed at his reflection. Harry stared back at him, haunted and angry. "I'm more than they could ever have imagined, and that's why they did all that to me. They were scared. And they were right to be."

It was funny, but when he saw Harry saying those things, he believed them. He wasn't the freak under the stairs. But he wasn't the Boy Who Lived either. Tracing the lightning bolt on his forehead, he smiled at himself. It didn't define him, but it was no different to the Dursleys. A relic of his past. The scar might still affect him because the bastard who'd made it was still chasing after him, but why should he let the memory of the Dursleys control him, too?

It was an exhilarating thought, freedom. To see what he was, and what he could become, was an awe-inspiring thing. And all trepidation and anxiety over these therapy sessions evaporated. He would relive every moment of those ten years if he had to.

"Harry?" Mrs Weasley said. "Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah, cheers, Mum," Harry grinned. "I'm great."

* * *

"And Harry has the quaffle! He dodges idiot number one _and_ idiot number two, and now it's just him versus the Keeper! Go on, Ron! Harry puts it away! Clean and through the right hoop and he's through!"

They were playing a basic pick-up game on the hidden pitch, using only an old, beaten quaffle. Ron was Keeping, and they were playing mini knockout tournaments.

Ginny was commentating.

"And Fred snatches the quaffle from George's slow, useless hand to... Oh, now you're just showing off."

Fred looped around Ron, dodged George and looped back on himself before slaloming in and out of the goal hoops.

"Right, Harry vs Fred!"

Ron tossed the quaffle out, settling back in with grim determination. He was a better Keeper than Harry had expected. While Harry almost never scored against Oliver in practice, Ron had saved about half of the shots Harry had sent his way. Wood was a well practised and experienced fifth year though, so Ron was probably going places.

Leaning close to his borrowed broomstick, he caught it even as Fred took a useless swipe at the tail end of his broom. A Fallon Flip brought him under Fred to zoom towards the goalposts.

Ron was staring at him from atop the Nimbus, gliding regularly from side to side. Harry went for the trick shot, but Ron didn't bite, and they were only seconds apart. Harry careened off to the side, aiming for the right hoop and releasing the quaffle at full pelt through the left hoop, Ron's fingers just grazing it as the redhead realised his mistake.

The old broomsticks that he and the twins were using were decrepit old things, chosen to level the playing field. Harry doubted he was pulling more than thirty miles an hour out of his, but even that little was enough to tickle him. He landed softly next to Ginny.

"Your turn," he grinned. Her jaw dropped.

"Harry, I..."

"Wait, you want Ginny to fly?" Fred said.

"You've seen her fly at Hogwarts," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, and she's pretty decent," said George.

"But if Mum sees her more than two feet off the ground," said Fred.

"She'll blame us," George finished.

"Pff," said Ginny, grabbing the broom. "You're just scared because you know your little sister's about to make you look even more stupid than usual."

"Yeah, yeah, keep it coming, short stuff," Fred goaded.

Ginny shot up towards him, and Ron threw the quaffle high in the air.

Twenty minutes later, Harry had decided that the only acceptable alternative to flying himself was to watch Ginny. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. Aside from her gorgeous red hair flowing out behind her it was difficult to appreciate her looks while she was in the air, dodging and diving, twisting and turning. It wasn't just the grace of her movements either, which were surprisingly elegant on the knackered broomstick. No, it was the pure joy leaking through their bond that allowed him to vicariously enjoy her flight in a way that nobody else could hope to.

"And another one to me!" Ginny said. "Here, Ron, I'll Keep."

"Thanks, Ginny," Ron grinned.

Ginny, it turned out, wasn't the best Keeper. She never failed to catch the quaffle when she caught it, but unless the shot was from long range that tended to be where she struggled. Harry supposed it was a difficult skill to practice on your own.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Percy came by to tell them they needed to go back to the house. When he saw Ginny in the air, he froze.

"Mother won't be pleased, Ginny," he called.

"Percy," Harry sighed, "are you seriously going to snitch on your own sister? She's clearly not hurt."

"She shouldn't be flying," Percy said obstinately. He glared at the twins.

"Hey, hey, we tried to stop her," they said.

"You're all dicks," Ginny fumed. She came at Harry like she'd been fired out of a cannon, sliding sideways at the last second, discarding the broom and jumping on him. He could hear her muffled sniffling as she buried her face in his shoulder and embraced him so tightly he wondered if she was trying to hide inside him.

"Hey... hey..." he muttered, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He felt her high emotions slowly calm, but continued to hold her.

' _ **I hate them, Harry.'**_

' _ **No you don't.'**_

' _ **No, I don't,'**_ she agreed, pulling away slightly. There were tears glistening in her big brown eyes, and he could feel a damp patch on his shirt. ' _ **I wish I did though.'**_

"Come on, let's go," said Harry, grabbing his Nimbus as he led them back to the house. Before long, Ginny had released her death grip on him and withdrew to only holding his hand. She held it tightly, to be sure, but it was only his hand, and nothing relevant to his breathing.

' _ **Thanks, Harry,'**_ she sent.

' _ **Ehh, what else was I gonna do?'**_ Harry shrugged.

The happy smile she sent his way made things flutter inside of him.

They stopped off at the little stone outhouse to store the broomsticks (apart from the Nimbus, of course), and filed in through the kitchen door.

"Good, you're back," Mrs Weasley said, levitating a bowl of something Harry couldn't see, but was clearly stirring itself.

"Mother, Ginny was flying," said Percy.

The bowl floated over to the dinner table.

"Ginny, what have I told you about..."

"Mum, I gave her the broom and told her to play," said Harry.

"Don't interrupt me, Harry," Mum said. "Ginny, what do I always tell you about flying?"

"It's dangerous, and you don't want me getting hurt," Ginny sulked. "Mum, I'm a good flier, I don't get hurt."

"And how would you suddenly become a good flier, hmm?" Mum asked expectantly. If Harry didn't know better...

"I've practised loads at Hogwarts with Harry!" Ginny said quickly.

"AND THE TWO OF YOU LET HER?" Mum fumed, turning on the twins. Her glaring was quickly increasing in intensity; it was incredible how such a kindly woman could be so terrifying in her anger.

"How did I know we'd end up getting it for this?" George muttered.

"We always do, bro," Fred said sadly.

"Don't give me that," Mum said. "Come on, what do you all have to say for yourselves? She's your little sister, for gods' sakes!"

"She's mine, too," Harry said. "I want her to be happy."

Ginny gave his hand a little squeeze. ' _ **Harry...'**_

"I know, dear," Mum said. "That's why I'm not angry with you. I never told you not to let her fly, did I? These two, on the other hand... And where were you in all this, Ron?"

"Sorry, Mum," Ron muttered.

"I'll be having words with the three of you later," Mum said, vexed. "Be off with you. Ginny, come with me." She levitated the bowl after them as she returned to the cooker.

They trooped together into the living room in a silence that lasted for about thirty seconds before the twins turned on Percy.

" _Mother..._ " Fred mocked.

" _Ginny was flying, Mother..._ "

" _Don't you know I'm a_ prefect, _Mother..._ "

" _I'm so terribly important, Mother..._ "

"Pack it in, you two," Percy snarled. "What is your problem, anyway?"

"What's our problem?" Fred asked incredulously.

"What's _your_ problem?"

"You changed, Perce."

"I remember when you were fun," George said accusingly.

"What, was your prefectship more valuable than your brothers?" Fred sneered.

"I..." Percy gaped. "I was never like you two."

"What're you on about?" Ron butted in. "You used to hang out with them all the time!"

Harry was feeling more and more like he should be somewhere else, but he couldn't figure out how to get away subtly. Behind him was the door to Mum and Ginny's private conversation, and everywhere else was blocked off by his brothers.

"And why do you think that was?" Percy fumed. "Bill and Charlie were always playing Quidditch or running down to the village to try to impress this or that girl that had caught their eye. But I never endorsed half of the things you two did."

"Doesn't mean you weren't there laughing at the end," Fred ground out.

"You turned your back on us, Perce."

"You never would've gone running to Mum..."

"...before they stuck that little badge on your chest."

"That's preposterous," Percy said. "I always tried to be the voice of reason with you two. Remember that incident with Aunt Muriel?"

"We _wanted_ her to react like that!" Fred yelled.

"We hated her, Perce."

"We all did."

"I didn't," Percy sniffed. "She was family, regardless of your feelings, and it was wrong of you to treat her that way."

"She didn't care how she talked about us," Ron muttered.

"So you use your mouth and talk to her about it," Percy argued. "You don't put a dungbomb under her chair."

"She never would've listened," Fred scowled.

"She hates all Weasleys," George added.

"Do you even notice the way she treats Dad?" said Fred.

"You'd think Mum sold herself into slavery, the way Muriel goes on..."

"Is this about me or her?" Percy said. "I tolerate your behaviour towards me, but I will not allow you to disrespect mother _or_ the school."

"Don't you see?"

"You weren't like this before!"

"I remember a Percy who..."

"Oh shut up all of you," Harry said.

They all froze, turning to stare at him.

"Your bickering is giving me a headache, you're worse than Ron and Hermione!" said Harry, giving Ron a look. His mate turned bright red, the tips of his ears purpling. "Percy, you're overbearing. None of the other prefects are nearly as weird as you about stuff, but they're no worse at their job. Fred, George, I don't know what Percy used to be like, and I don't know who Muriel is, let alone how she treats you, but you can be complete pricks, especially to Percy."

They continued to stare at him.

"Right," Harry said, scratching at the back of his neck. "I'm... going to my room."

He felt their eyes on him all the way up the stairs. There wasn't even a whisper by the time he was in his room, and he shut the door on whatever outburst might follow. Climbing up on his bed, he replaced his broom carefully on the bracket. When he turned, he noticed that Hedwig's cage was still empty. She must have caught Hermione at a bad time.

As he went to the wardrobe to pull out his Transfiguration summer assignment, he found Harry looking back at him out of the mirror. And suddenly, he began to snigger.

"Hey Harry."

"Bwargh!" Harry cried, spinning around to face Ginny, who'd just materialised behind him.

"Didn't scare you, did I?" she smirked.

"Whaaat?" Harry said. "Me?"

"The idiots three downstairs are sulking," Ginny probed, walking closer with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"I might have given them a stern talking-to..." Harry shrugged.

Ginny snorted. "Me and Mum could hear you."

"Ah."

"Don't worry, she won't bite your head off," Ginny laughed.

"I'm sure," Harry said. "How was your lecture?"

"Not bad," said Ginny. "I... I get the impression she already knew I'd been sneaking out to fly before."

"Not quite as stealthy as you thought, huh?" Harry sniggered.

"Shut up!" Ginny grinned. "There must have been wards involved."

"Obviously," said Harry. "So what did she say?"

"I've... got permission to fly from now on," she said.

"That's great!" Harry enthused. "You should try out for the team, we could use a reserve Chaser, Wood was saying how he hated the lack of reserves this year..."

"Reserve?" Ginny sniffed. "You don't think I could do better?"

"Ginny, those three have been flying together for two years," said Harry. "Besides, you don't have a broom."

"Yeah, yeah, details," Ginny grinned. "Hey, are you going to be looking over more stuff about your family this evening?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled absently. "We've looked through the records for the past couple of generations. All the people I saw in the Mirror..."

Ginny rushed to him and hugged him tightly.

"Hey, Ginny..." Harry said. "Thanks."

Ginny giggled. "I'm probably enjoying this as much as you are, Harry."

"I meant..." Harry began, only to find her finger on his lips.

"I know." She gave him a brief kiss, and pulled back grinning. "Come on, last one to the river's a rotten egg!"

She teleported to the door.

"Hey!"

* * *

There was a strange tension in the air when Harry sat down for dinner. Percy and the twins hadn't exchanged a single word since the argument that afternoon, and they were most definitely not looking at each other now. Ginny raised her knife and pretended to struggle bringing it back down, sawing it back and forth in the air. Her father snorted aloud, but the parties in question were so intent on ignoring each other that they never even noticed.

"What has you young ladies all worked up?" Mr. Weasley sighed.

Fred smirked slightly.

"It doesn't matter, Father," said Percy.

"Oh?" Mr. Weasley smiled, looking more amused by the second. "And what of the two of you? Do you also think it unimportant?"

George looked up. "Yeah, it's fine, Dad."

"We'll just put our feminine charms to work on it," Fred snorted. Percy shot him a baleful look.

"And people wonder where they get it from," Mrs Weasley said.

"Everyone knows you're a terrible influence, Molly," Mr. Weasley grinned. "Why, I remember that one Christmas..."

"But we need to get to the bottom of this," their mother said, her cheeks slightly pink. "Now, I know some things were said earlier today. Heavens above, I'd be surprised if the Muggles didn't hear down in the village..."

Percy blushed, but the twins only smirked and sniggered.

"So you heard their little dispute?" Mr. Weasley said.

"Oh, I caught the tail end of it," Mrs Weasley said. "I'm sure Harry could give us a better account."

Harry flushed. "Sorry, I only said what I thought needed to be said."

"Oh, I know," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Talk us through it, dear. I, for one, am famished."

With that, she turned her attention to her plate. Ginny nudged his shoulder.

 _ **'Go on, Harry,'**_ she grinned. _**'Make it good.'**_

"Well, Percy had snitched on Ginny for flying..." Harry began.

"I wasn't snitching," Percy protested.

"Fine, you were _filing a formal complaint report with Mother_ , Perce," Fred said.

"You guys going to let me finish?" Harry grinned.

"They probably want to kiss and make up in private," Ginny said airily, earning three glares. Ron sprayed his mouthful of potato all over his plate. Or nearly did, because Mr. Weasley froze the appetising mix in mid-air for them all to see.

" _Evanesco_ ," Mr. Weasley muttered, making it vanish instantaneously.

"Cheers, Ron," Ginny muttered. The tips of his ears burned red.

"So pretty much everyone gets told off," Harry continued with a sigh, wondering what else could happen during this story. "And these three turn on each other the moment we get into the living room. The twins start in with their prefect routine."

"We do not have routines," Fred said indignantly.

George nodded his agreement. "We are highly spontaneous."

"Whatever makes you happy, boys," Mr. Weasley said. "You were saying, Harry?"

"Well, they're biting his head off as usual," Harry pressed, getting an eye-roll from one of them. "And Percy finally bites back. He says something like 'what's your problem?' and then Fred and George started making it all personal and I was just trying to get out of there ,I swear I didn't mean to make things worse."

"Tell the story, Harry," Mrs Weasley said, "we aren't angry with you."

"Well, these three probably aren't happy with you," Mr. Weasley amended. "Still, I'm sure that they'll be fine until next month."

"Daddy!" Ginny giggled.

Percy buried his head in his hands.

"So, uh, the twins are going on about how Percy used to be more like them and turned his back on them for his badge," Harry said, trying to finish as soon as he could. "Percy's saying how he never really changed, and I guess he was implying that it's the twins' fault for not growing up a bit. Then they started talking about an Aunt Muriel?"

"Ah," Mr. Weasley said.

"Boys, we talked about this," Mrs Weasley sighed.

"As I tried to explain..." Percy began.

"Not now, Percy," Mr. Weasley said. Percy backed down without complaint.

"Err..." Harry murmured, noticing that nobody else was saying anything. "Well, I might've gotten a bit impatient then."

Ginny snickered next to him, and he flicked her arm for vengeance.

"So I, err, gave them my honest opinion," Harry shrugged. "I said that Percy was overbearing, and the twins were bullying him."

"It's a level headed young man we've brought into the fold," said Mr. Weasley.

Harry blushed and thanked him.

"Boys, I hope you were paying attention to your brother," Mrs Weasley said sternly. Harry got an indescribably warm feeling in his chest at her words, and Ginny nudged his foot, grinning up at him. "Percy, you're a wonderful, admirable young man."

"But your commitment to your work should never make you lose sight of the rest of who you are," Mr. Weasley said. "When that happens... It's a bad road to walk, son."

"I understand, father," Percy said.

"No, you don't," Mr. Weasley frowned. "And I hope you never do."

"Fred, George..." Mrs Weasley sighed. "I don't even know what to say to you boys. You don't listen to a word I say anyway."

"That's not true, Mum..." George winced.

"Then why do we always end up here?" Mrs Weasley shouted. "You cannot spend the rest of your lives causing trouble until someone else steps in! You're going to be grown men soon..."

She choked up a little, and Ginny put a comforting hand on her arm.

"You'll be grown men soon enough," she continued, "and I won't be there to scold you."

Harry stared around the table, before remembering to feel ill at ease and returning to his food.

 _ **'Pretty intense, huh?'**_ Ginny said.

 _ **'Mmhmm,'**_ Harry replied. _**'How often does this happen, then?'**_

 _ **'Ohh, once in a blue moon...'**_ Ginny sent. _**'I wonder how this'll turn out.'**_

The rest of the meal passed in near-complete silence. Harry and Percy both finished early, but neither were willing to be the first to stand. So, Harry found himself playing with the gravy left on his plate until Mr. Weasley took pity on them.

"Good thing tomorrow's Sunday," Mr. Weasley smiled. "Fine day, Sunday. No work on Sundays."

"Usually," Mrs Weasley said drily.

"Usually," Mr. Weasley agreed. He stood, taking his plates into the kitchen, and after a beat, Percy, Harry and Ginny followed.

Harry was half-asleep by the time he staggered into his room, but that changed in a single, skipped heartbeat. Hedwig was back. But she wasn't alone.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir! Such an honour it is."


	22. 22 - A Letter From Hermione

Harry recognised the little creature that Hedwig was glaring at with such malevolent intent. It, or rather a likeness of its kind, had stood in the Fountain of Magical Brethren, crystal clear water shooting out of its golden, bat-like ears.

"So, let me make my position very clear," Harry said slowly, putting his hand on his wand hilt. "I killed someone a few weeks ago, defeated the Lord Voldemort himself with the help of a few friends, and most of them are in this building. You're going to explain who you are, who you work for and what reason exactly a house-elf has for being in my room unannounced. And tell me exactly how you pissed off my owl while you're at it."

The elf, who was only up to Harry's navel in height, looked absolutely terrified. Harry could feel Ginny waiting outside, listening. The little elf bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose pressed against the carpet. It was wearing what appeared to be an old, tattered pillowcase, ripped to allow its spindly arms and legs through.

"My name is Dobby, sir," it said. "Dobby the house-elf. I... I could not tell you of the family I serve, sir."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"They isn't exactly knowing Dobby is here, sir," Dobby said, wringing its hands. "Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir..."

"And they're not going to notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" Harry winced.

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments…"

"Look, you turn up in my room like this and Hedwig clearly wants to take a bite out of you..." Dobby jumped away from the snowy owl. "Just please explain this so I have a reason not to call for help or pull my wand on you or something."

Just then, footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Dobby snapped his bony fingers, disappearing into thin air.

"Ginny, what on earth are you doing?" Mrs Weasley's voice came.

Harry sighed and walked over to Hedwig, who was preening herself.

"I heard voices, Mum," Ginny replied.

"So you knock and ask, you don't eavesdrop," Mrs Weasley sighed. "It's why I'm here as well, Ginny."

"I've got to deal with this, Hedwig," Harry said. "I'll be right back."

She softly hooted her assent, just as Mrs Weasley knocked on the door.

"Yeah..." Harry said as he opened it. "There was a house-elf called Dobby in my room."

"... Oh."

"He wouldn't say who sent him," Harry shrugged, "and he didn't tell me why he was here because he disappeared as soon as we heard you coming."

Mrs Weasley stared at him. "You're not sleeping in here tonight, Harry. Go and wait downstairs."

Harry put his arm out to Hedwig, and went back down to the living room with her and Ginny. Mr. Weasley was watching Muggle news on the television. When he noticed them arrive, his eyebrows shot up.

"Planning on a hunting trip, you three?" he asked.

Hedwig barked her approval. Sniggering, Harry stroked the back of her head.

"No, no," Harry said. "There was a house-elf in my room."

"My word," said their father, getting to his feet. "Where is it now?"

"I don't know, Dad," Harry shrugged. "He disappeared as soon as he heard Mum coming."

"Why would a house-elf...?" Mr. Weasley muttered. His eyes went wide. "Come with me, and keep your eyes open."

They hurried down to the basement, hearing the muffled sounds of activity above. Mr. Weasley led them to a little cluster of stones. Slicing a small cut in his finger with a spell, he spilled a drop of blood on one, which glowed bright yellow. A second later, the other stones lit up in a synchronised pattern, and then each one was projecting a different pattern in pure white light. Harry couldn't begin to make sense of them, but Mr. Weasley sighed in relief.

Their father produced a silvery-blue weasel out of ethereal mist, whispered to it, and sent it skyward. A minute later, another silvery-blue creature appeared from the ceiling, this one looking slightly more like a bear. Then, it spoke with Mrs Weasley's voice.

"It's fine up here too," it said. "I'm sending the kids back to bed; we can figure this out in the morning."

"Well, you heard your mother," Mr. Weasley grinned.

"What was that?" Harry gasped.

"A little trick we learned in the war," he smiled. "It's called a Patronus Charm, Harry. Usually it's used for fending off entropic creatures like Dementors, but it can also be used to communicate."

Harry watched the explanation sail over his head, but he couldn't deny that it was some particularly impressive magic.

"According to the wards, nothing has come in or gone out that shouldn't have," Mr. Weasley sighed as he led them back up. "That's because house-elf magic works differently. However, the wards would have picked up intent to harm. Whoever that elf was, he wasn't here to hurt anyone."

Harry pondered this for a moment, turning to Hedwig. "Why were you mad at him then, girl?"

Hedwig extended her leg, to which was attached a small, thick letter. Hermione had apparently decided to make things easier on her by folding up the paper incredibly small.

"Did he try to take it from you?" Harry asked.

Hedwig bobbed her head.

"Did he do anything to it?"

Hedwig shook her head.

"You didn't let him, did you, girl?" Harry said proudly. She shook her head again, puffing out her chest and preening.

"She is a particularly smart bird," Mr. Weasley said admiringly.

"Gotcha!" Ginny cried as she snatched the letter from Harry's hand, charging up the remaining steps and into her room.

Hedwig took flight, hooting at Harry. He grinned, and raced after Ginny through the open door. Ginny wasn't there.

"Too slow!" she laughed. She was back out in the hallway. ' _Damned Apparition...'_

"Settle down you two," Mr. Weasley sighed. "It's gone ten o'clock, you should be in bed."

Ginny pouted up at him. "But Daddy..."

"Give me the letter, Ginny," he said.

Sullenly, she plodded over to him and put the letter in his hand.

"Now don't be like that, pumpkin," he said, lifting her chin. "Go on, give me a smile."

Ginny gave the floor a dark look for a moment, but she soon relented, grinning widely at her father.

"That's my girl," Mr. Weasley smiled. "All three of you can read this in the morning. Now off to bed, both of you."

* * *

"Were you jealous of Dudley?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Specifically for getting all those presents, and all that attention that Christmas?"

"Of course I was jealous," Harry muttered. "He got everything he wanted, even things he didn't want, and he never used any of it anyway. But I knew he would hoard it all in his second bedroom just to make sure I wouldn't get to touch any of it. As if Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would've let me."

"And how did you react?" the nurse said.

The Christmas in question, 1985, was a bad one. Harry had been at school that year for the first time, and everyone had been talking about what they wanted for Christmas.

"I cried," Harry said, feeling something wrench inside as he remembered it. "I cried and I cried, and Dudley was laughing at me, and Uncle Vernon beat me and said I'd upset the neighbours... He threw me in the cupboard with some of the wrapping paper and told me to play with that."

"And where was Aunt Petunia through all this?"

Harry thought. The memory wasn't absolutely clear - it was a very long time ago. He remembered Dudley laughing by the tree. Uncle Vernon had gotten the belt out, and was purple in the face, beating and whipping him. Aunt Petunia...

"She was drinking," Harry muttered. "She was drinking from a bottle; I don't know what it was..."

"What do you think it was, Potter?" Madam Pomfrey prodded gently.

"Alcohol," Harry said with absolute certainty.

"Why do you think that might have been, Potter?" she asked.

"She wasn't happy?" Harry suggested.

"Potter," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You're her sister's child. If she bore any love for Lily she would not have stood for her husband beating you like that. She clearly wasn't happy with the situation, as you've pointed out, so why would she turn to drink rather than try to stop your uncle?"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Potter, why do people drink alcohol?" she said.

"To have fun?" Harry tried, thinking of what he'd heard from the twins and older students.

Madam Pomfrey pinched her nose. "Yes, it is quite popular for recreation, but your aunt wasn't at a party, Potter," she said, though not harshly. "Potter, people drink because it helps them to forget their problems. Does the phrase 'drowning your sorrows' mean anything to you?"

It did, though Harry wasn't sure where he'd heard it. "So she was drinking because she wasn't happy about me being beaten, but she couldn't do anything about it?" Harry asked. Madam Pomfrey gestured for him to carry on. "Err... I don't know, why wouldn't she be able to do anything?"

"Po... Harry..." Madam Pomfrey said. "Did your uncle ever beat her?"

Harry stared at Madam Pomfrey. He'd never thought of his aunt from that angle before. He usually remembered her screeching at him to get him up in the morning or for burning some food, or slapping him down if he made a smart comment. Had she been suffering too? Was she still?

It was a question that Harry couldn't escape. He was incapable of conversation through lunch, although that was hardly noticeable. With the continuing tensions between Percy and the twins, the only people talking were Madam Pomfrey and Mrs Weasley anyway. Ginny was as supportive as ever, transmitting warm feelings through their bond while resting her arm against his. If not for her...

"Thank you very much for the meal, Molly," Madam Pomfrey smiled, standing.

"Oh it's my pleasure, really," Mrs Weasley said. "Any time."

"Have a good weekend everyone," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Bye, Madam Pomfrey," they said in perfect synchronisation.

"Good to know that that still works," Mrs Weasley smirked.

"I'll see you next Friday, Harry," the nurse smiled.

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry. "See you then."

Mrs Weasley took her by the hand and led her to the living room. "So how are things down at the hospital?"

Harry stood as well, taking his and their plates to the kitchen before heading up to his room. Ginny was there waiting for him.

She pulled him into a tight embrace, and the tension drained out of him.

"So, we're going back into the Muggle world next weekend," Ginny said. She pulled back with a grin. "Looks like those clothes will see some use after all."

"Some use?" Harry spluttered. "You wear them all the time!"

"Ron doesn't," she waved him off airily.

Hermione's reply had included an invitation. She was going on a cruise with her parents in a week on Monday, and while the Grangers couldn't take everyone with them, they could take Harry, Ginny, Ron and Neville to stay at their house for the weekend.

"Hey, have you noticed something odd about Percy?" said Harry.

"There's a few things, Harry," Ginny grinned. "You'll need to be more specific."

"This holiday," Harry expounded. "He's spent an awful lot of time locked up in his room."

Ginny frowned at him. "Yeah... I mean I thought it was just him avoiding the twins, but it hasn't gotten worse since that argument so it can't just be that..."

"Maybe he's plotting his revenge," Harry grinned.

"I would pay money to see that," Ginny said.

"Do you reckon they'll even let Hedwig carry messages for me now?" Harry said. His owl made a distressed noise, flapping over to sit on his shoulder and nudging at his head. "I know you didn't let him get it, Hedwig, but that's not the way they'll see it."

"Harry's right, you know," Ginny sighed. "They'll wonder if next time Dobby or whoever might get lucky, or overpower you."

Hedwig called indignantly, returning to her cage and putting her head under her wing.

"Hedwig..." Harry said.

"Give her time, Harry," said Ginny.

Harry closed his eyes, letting his awareness narrow to her hand on his arm and the sound of their breathing. Things were getting complicated as of late.

"Hey, err, Harry? Ginny?"

It was Ron.

"You guys might want to see this," he grinned.

They snuck down to the living room and hid either side of the door. In the kitchen, Percy and the twins were talking.

"So, ah, have you been down to the village to see that girl?" Percy asked.

"Oh, Jennifer?" George said. "Nah, ended that over Easter."

"Oh," Percy said. "How come?"

"We weren't nearly serious enough to make it work long distance," he shrugged.

Fred snorted. "Don't know how the two of you thought it'd work in the first place."

"Well, she was hot," George grinned. "I thought if I could figure out a way to keep in touch we could have a good time in the holidays."

Ginny bit her fist, turning pink as she tried to hold in her laughter. Percy seemed to be having the opposite issue, but he held his tongue.

"Lighten up, Perce," Fred laughed. "What do you think she saw in George after talking to him for half an hour?"

"That doesn't mean I'm happy about it," Percy said tightly.

"You think me and Fred are happy with everything we see?" George asked.

"You've got to see that not everyone likes the same things."

"Does the same things."

"Say things the same way."

"And you give the people what they want," George finished with a lazy smirk.

"Or if you can't..." Fred added.

"You give them what they need in a way they'll like," George shrugged.

"Turning your nose up at this lout for his dastardly ways won't change him," Fred grinned.

"My dastardly ways?" George asked. "Whose idea was that birthday game of spin the wand?"

"I said nothing of myself, brother mine," Fred chuckled.

' _ **Where's Mum?'**_ Harry asked.

' _ **Out, I guess?'**_ Ginny said. ' _ **I went upstairs the same time you did.'**_

"I... suppose that makes some sense," Percy frowned. "But what if someone does something wrong?"

"You see, this is why we won't be prefects," Fred said.

"Just... I don't know, take the minor stuff less seriously," George shrugged.

"If people are fighting, knock them both out and drag them up to the headmaster," Fred grinned.

"But you can't bite someone's head off for using a bit of magic in the corridor," said George.

"Look at us, George," Fred laughed. "Advising the enemy."

"I'm..." Percy started.

"There's your first problem, Percy," George said.

"You're so keen to be a good prefect and follow all the rules..."

"You've lost your sense of humour."

Percy sighed. "I know."

"You... what?" George blinked.

"Why do you think I'm talking to you in the first place?" Percy said. "I can't be good at my job if everyone hates me. I didn't even consider the possibility before..."

"Hey, people don't hate you..." George grimaced.

"Yeah, just... find you really annoying," Fred winced.

"Thank you, I feel much better," Percy said drily.

The twins stared at Percy, then at each other, and then back to Percy. Breaking out into identical grins, they shared a resounding high five.

* * *

"Daddy's home!" Ginny said, bursting into Harry's room and charging straight back out.

Harry rolled his eyes, putting his quill away and pulling the small suitcase out from under the bed. Though it was only as big as his chest, it had sufficient Undetectable Extension to fit everything he'd need for the weekend. As an afterthought, he put his Potions homework in too. Knowing Hermione...

"Hey, Harry, you ready?" Ginny asked.

"Of course," Harry said. "Doesn't Dad want to relax for a bit after work though?"

"Pfff..." Ginny smirked, rolling her eyes. Her amusement turned into a disbelieving stare, and she Disapparated with a whisper.

Harry shook his head. As powerful as she became, she would always be just a little bit mental. It was one of her many charms. Turning, he found Hedwig staring at the place she'd just disappeared from, too.

"Hey, girl," he smiled. Hedwig stared up at him with her massive eyes. "Have you forgiven me?"

Hedwig averted her eyes, gazing haughtily over his shoulder.

"Aww, come on," Harry grinned. "You're my girl, aren't you? The best owl a boy could ever ask for?"

Hedwig perked up a little at this, giving him a hard stare but meeting his eyes nevertheless. Without warning, she flapped up onto his shoulder. She gave his ear a harder-than-necessary nip, before returning to her perch and hissing at him. He had the distinct impression that she was laughing at him.

"Yeah, yeah, have fun while I'm gone," Harry griped, heading up to see how Ron was doing. Knowing him, he'd only just have started packing.

As ever, walking into his friend and brother's room felt like being punched in the face, or walking into a furnace, or something in between that wasn't really like either.

"Do you have anything that isn't orange, Ron?" Harry laughed.

"My robes," he shrugged. "Nothing wrong with Cannons orange."

"No," Harry said, recalling that the last time the Chudley Cannons had won the league was about a hundred years ago. "Nothing at all. You, err, packed yet?"

"I know what I'm taking, it won't take me long," he shrugged.

"Daddy says he'll be half an hour," Ginny panted.

"Do you just refuse to walk today?" Harry laughed.

"Yes," she said. "Is that a problem?"

"What about when we're at Hermione's?" Ron suggested.

Ginny shrugged apathetically. "See you around!"

"I hate this no magic thing," Harry said.

"Yeah, it's like an itch," Ron agreed.

"I suppose your hyper-thing is done now then?" Harry asked.

Ron grinned and pointed over his shoulder at the one remaining vial. "One more dose of whatever potion and that's it. It's going to be so good to use magi... Oh wait."

They shared a laugh, and started to pack his things. It turned out that Ron did know exactly what he was taking. However, he had no idea where any of it was. By the time they were done, Mr. Weasley was getting the car started again.

Harry and Ron raced downstairs, saying brief goodbyes to everyone while Mrs Weasley fretted about their safety and all the Muggles and whether something might go wrong with the car. Ron just about dodged the Filibuster Firework the twins had clearly planted in the boot. The thunderous explosions gave them a warm send off as Mr. Weasley drove off into the bright summer evening.

"Everyone strapped in tight?" Mr. Weasley asked. He seemed almost to vibrate with happiness as he turned delicately onto the village road.

"Yes, Dad," they all said.

"Good, good..." Mr. Weasley grinned.

He turned out onto a country road, but...

"Err..." Harry said.

"We haven't come this way before, Daddy," Ginny ventured.

"No," he smiled. "We haven't."

Ginny pouted up at him from the front seat. When he noticed, he started laughing.

"Patience, pumpkin."

The car was humming merrily to itself as it carried them up the road. That was when Harry noted another strange thing. There were no other cars on this road.

"Now, not a word to your mother," Mr. Weasley said, putting his foot down a bit. Then he reached out and pressed a small, silver button.

"Dad?" said Ron. Harry felt a bit lost himself. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find a reason why Mrs Weasley would be upset.

"Merlin's pants we're invisible!" Ginny cried.

Harry followed her eyes to the wing mirror. They were indeed one hundred percent invisible.

"One of a few special modifications," Mr. Weasley grinned.

"Dad, don't you work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Ron snorted. "Mum always says if Dad raided our house he'd have to arrest himself."

"Which is exactly why she doesn't need to know about that," Mr. Weasley said. "Or this."

He raised the lever on the right of the steering wheel that Harry had assumed would control the windscreen wipers. As it turned out, it was altitude control.

"What," said Harry.

"This is AWESOME!" Ginny grinned, jumping about in her seat.

"We're flying!" Ron said, planting his face against the window.

"I'd rather we got there at a decent hour," Mr. Weasley said modestly.

He put his foot to the floor, and they rocketed away, still rising steadily towards the clouds.

"I did wonder why there was a compass on the dashboard," Harry muttered.

"Due northeast," Mr. Weasley announced. "Do you have the directions, Ginny?"

"Right here," she said, pulling the letter out of her jacket. "She's given instructions for getting there by road from Ottery St. Catchpole though."

"So we follow the road," Mr. Weasley said, slowing to a stop and pointing the bonnet down towards the ground. "Where does she want us to go?"

Luckily, Hermione had done brief illustrations as well, and they soon found their way. Ron pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards and before Harry realised they'd even reached London, Mr. Weasley was looking for a place to put the car down.

"How about that massive... is that a park or something?" Ginny asked.

"Where are we?" said Harry, staring out of the window. It was just starting to get dark outside.

"Richmond?" Ginny said.

"That's Richmond Park," Harry said with amazed certainty. The Dursleys took Dudley here for riding lessons once. Dudley had hated it, to Aunt Petunia's chagrin.

"Wonderful, there's no-one in that car park," Mr. Weasley said, putting them down between two other cars.

They looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention, and Mr. Weasley turned off the invisibility.

"Just over an hour," Mr. Weasley beamed. "We have made tremendous time."

"Err, I'm not really sure where we go from here," Ginny said.

"So we ask, Ginny," said Mr. Weasley. He backed the car slowly out from between the Honda saloon and Mercedes coupe, the gravel crunching under the tires.

The park was truly massive. Harry could see no end to it, only trees and grass and roads and cyclists and trees…

Through a combination of helpful, if not always sure strangers, and Hermione's instructions, they eventually found themselves on Queens Avenue. Harry didn't need the directions to see which of the houses the Grangers' residence was. Hermione's dad wanted everyone to see his pride and joy.

"Is that a car?" Mr. Weasley said.

"Yeah," Harry grinned.

"It's Hermione's dad's car," Ginny added. Harry held back a sigh. This was not going to go well.

As Mr. Weasley pulled up in front of number fifty-seven, Harry noted the security camera monitoring the front of the house. Proud, but not careless. In fact, Harry barely noticed the camera amongst the vines, which grew over the face of the house through a warm chestnut wooden trellis. In all, the effect was that the large house was well cared for, though ironically it did not have the clinical feel of Privet Drive.

Ginny bolted out of the car to go and knock on the front door.

"She was serious," Ron muttered.

By the time they took their things from the boot, the Grangers were all at the door.

"... got here by car, then?" Mr. Granger said.

"Were they supposed to walk?" Mrs Granger laughed. "Please, come in."

"Have you got everything you'll need?" Mr. Granger frowned, looking at their small suitcases. His wife shut the door behind them, while Hermione led Ginny ahead of them.

"Bigger on the inside, sir," Harry explained.

Mr. Granger stared at him for a moment.

"Excuse him, Harry, he's a bit of a Doctor Who nut," Mrs Granger sighed.

"You hypocrite," Hermione's father laughed.

"Sorry, we never really introduced ourselves before, did we?" Mrs Granger said, turning to Mr Weasley. "I'm Sarah, and this is Alistair."

"Arthur Weasley," Mr. Weasley said, kissing the back of her hand. "At your service."

Hermione's mum giggled, turning her husband an amused look. "Oh my, that's..."

"Not something you see every day," Mr. Granger grinned. "Come into the living room, won't you, Arthur? Would you like tea? Coffee?"

"Tea please," Arthur said. "Milk and one sugar."

"Kids, why don't you go up to Hermione's room?" Mrs Granger said. "I'm sure you have lots to catch up on."

"Would you guys like some juice or water or something?" Hermione asked.

Hermione's house was just as pleasant on the inside. The shag pile carpets massaged his feet even through his socks, which combined with the warm cream of the walls to provide a very comforting feel. He told her so, and she grinned bashfully.

"Thanks, Ginny was saying that as well," she said. "It is a really nice place, yeah."

There was absolutely no doubt in Harry's mind that the room they'd been led into was Hermione's.

The light fitting was no simple bulb and shade affair, oh no. It was a massive representation of the sun, with the planets orbiting around it. A persistent hum that Harry was sure he'd heard before Hermione even opened the door permeated the room, and Harry was sure it was coming from the astronomical display. The walls were sparsely decorated, with one poster of Carl Sagan and another, much larger poster of 'the human machine' on the opposite wall detailing bones and muscles.

"Wow," said Harry.

Hermione blushed. "I..."

"Merlin's pants!" Ginny said. "Are they in sync?"

"Yeah," Hermione grinned. "Dad made it for my tenth birthday."

"He made this for you?" Ginny gasped. "Without magic?"

"Yeah," Hermione muttered, blushing right down to her chest.

"Um... How?" Ginny said.

"Well, all the planets up to Neptune have little arms attached to the centre, see?" Hermione said.

She indicated the eight metal rods protruding from the heavy construct holding up the 'sun'. Each one bent from the horizontal to enter its respective planet at a particular angle.

"There's a set of electric motors in that bit in the middle that drive them around their orbits," she explained. "And there's a little motor in each planet that spins it on its orbit."

"What about Pluto?" said Ginny.

"I didn't get that at first either," Hermione said excitedly. "There's actually a little track in my ceiling. Do you see it?"

It was hard through the light of the sun, but Harry saw it.

"Okay, so there's a little motor in that making it move around..." Ginny said. "But what's... Oh my stars is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione grinned.

"Some of us aren't quite keeping up," Ron said.

"Oh, lighten up, Ron," Ginny snorted. "Besides, look at Pluto!"

Pluto was barely even moving. Ginny rolled her eyes at them.

"It's got a motor on its little arm thingy, look," she said. "It's moving up and down as it goes, like its real orbit! Hermione that's incredible!"

"Yeah, it is," she said, grinning at the floor and continuing to burn with embarrassment.

"Is that the moon?!"

"I see you're entertaining yourselves," Mrs Granger smiled. Harry was beginning to think she just always sounded exasperated.

Ron was happily picking apart a model of a plant cell, one of a small collection of rather large constructions. Ginny was contentedly stretched out on Hermione's bed. Her eyes flicked from one rapidly spinning planet to the next as she stared up at the rotating solar system. Sitting with Hermione at her desk, Harry was trying desperately to keep up as she explained her little summer project to him. She'd been making notes about their work in Potions class all year, trying to document things like in her chemistry textbook, with the help of a few texts Madam Pince had somehow allowed her to keep over the holidays.

"Yeah, thanks, Mum," Hermione said.

"We'll be having dinner in an hour or so," Mrs Granger warned, "so don't get too carried away."

Ron perked up instantly at the mention of food.

"We'll curb Hermione's enthusiasm," said Ginny, finally tearing her eyes away from the massive, motorised mobile to shoot a smirk at her friend.

"Just as long as you don't set fire to anything, hmm?" Hermione replied.

"I'll leave you kids to it," Mrs Granger chuckled.

"Anyway, it's all so very difficult because Potions ingredients are very complex substances," Hermione continued. "It's not like I can work out enthalpy of formation of a unicorn horn, and all these Potions texts do is rail on about various preparation methods. So I've just been trying to figure out exactly how everything reacts with everything else and work from there..."

Harry looked at the maps, notes and equations, back up at Hermione's flushed, impassioned face and gave her an understanding and compassionate open mouthed stare.

* * *

His stomach quietly reminding him of what his priorities should be, Harry let Mrs Granger put a copious amount of shepherd's pie on his plate. It wasn't as much as Ron had taken, of course. Hermione's parents were quite impressed to find his appetite just as large as Hermione had evidently told them.

"Hermione tells us you're quite the talented young sorceress, Ginny," Mr. Granger said, his eyes dancing with the near-childlike excitement Harry remembered from King's Cross.

Ginny blushed brightly. "I'm pretty good, yeah," she squeaked.

"Oh Alistair, leave her alone," Mrs Granger grinned.

Mr. Weasley tried to hide his own smile behind his hand, but it wasn't working particularly well.

"Go on, just one trick," Hermione's father pressed.

"I... I can't do magic over the holidays!" said Ginny, seizing onto the idea like a buoy in the surging tide.

"Because you pay attention to that one at home," Ron snorted.

Ginny shot him a wounded look.

"Actually," Harry muttered, "why don't you get in trouble for that?"

"I..." Ginny paused, looking over at her father.

"Ginny is right, I'm afraid," Mr. Weasley sighed. "If she set off the Underage Magic Detectors, Hermione would get the initial blame. We'd have to go to the Ministry to sort it out."

"Damn," Mr. Granger smiled. "I would've loved to see some magic."

"You'll see it in abundance when you come to the Burrow, or Longbottom Manor," said Mr. Weasley.

"Why don't you tell us about what it's like at Hogwarts, and how you've used magic," Hermione's mum asked.

Ginny, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the storyteller. Even less surprising was the distinct lack of trolls, dragons and dark lords amongst her tales. She did sprinkle in a few Slytherin encounters though. The look of pride on her parents' faces when Ginny recounted Hermione's intervention via Immobilising Jinx on the train turned Hermione a violent shade of red, and Harry was almost certain she'd choose that moment to run and hide somewhere.

By the time Ron had finished eating, all light had faded from the sky. Hermione and her mother took the plates to the kitchen, and everyone followed the two fathers out into the hallway.

"I really must be going," Mr. Weasley said, stepping out of the front door. "Thank you again for the drinks and meal."

"It was a pleasure," said Mr. Granger.

"Hey, when's Neville getting here?" Harry whispered.

"Tomorrow morning, I think," Hermione replied. "I think his grandmother's Apparating him here."

"Your parents know how that works, right?" said Ginny.

"Of course," Hermione smiled. "I'm not you."

"You little..." Ginny began.

"See you Sunday evening, kids," Mr. Weasley called.

"Bye, Dad!"

"Bye, Mr. Weasley!"

In the pitch black night, you would have needed to know what to look for if you were to notice the old blue Anglia slip out of visibility. There was only a quiet rumble to let them know he'd taken off, fading into the night.

"So," said Mr. Granger.

"Let's sort out where you're sleeping," Hermione's mum smiled, shutting the door. "And please, Ginny, _don't_ set fire to anything."

* * *

' _Mmm...'_ Ginny's lips were so soft against his as they soared over Hogwarts. The rushing wind tickled at his hands. Ginny began to scratch at his face...

"Ginny?" he muttered against her lips. The scratching stopped. Then she was kissing all over his face. He put his hand in her hair and brought her lips back to his with a satisfied sigh...

"Eek!"

Harry's eyes shot open, his heart thumping thunderously as the adrenaline shocked him into full consciousness. Consciousness of his hand being full of bushy brown hair. Hermione was staring at him with terrified eyes.

"What in the..." he began. Hermione squeaked, jumping to her feet and bolting from the room, a feather duster flying out of her hand.

Ginny, just about standing off to his right, was in danger of wetting herself.

"Oh, Morgana, that was perfect!" she wheezed, pointing an unsteady arm at him.

That was when Harry noticed the can of shaving foam discarded by his side, and the strange, slight weight on his face. Not to mention that some of the stuff was on his cheek and over his left eye. His heart, realising that Harry wasn't currently fighting for his life, began to ache in his chest as it relaxed its frantic pace. Harry groaned and flopped back onto the travel mattress Mum had enchanted for him. They'd pranked him. Not that it had gone exactly to plan.

"Oh Jesus," Harry despaired. "I kissed Hermione!"

Ginny howled with laughter. "Don't... worry... You were... saying... my... name!"

Harry groaned again, covering his face with his hands. He'd momentarily forgotten about the foam, which now completely covered his face.. Incapable of words, he left Ginny to a slowly waking Ron in search of the bathroom.

Someone snorted behind him. Wheeling around, Harry found Mrs Granger in a black, silken dressing gown, with her hand over her mouth. He consciously set that as his eyes' lower limit and gritted his teeth.

"Got you good, didn't she?" she said, voice strained with the effort of not laughing.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "I reckon I've already gotten her back."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she sniggered. "Bathroom is that one over there."

"Thanks, Mrs Granger," Harry said, hurrying in that direction.

As he looked in the mirror, the reality of what had just happened crashed over him. Absently, he traced a finger over his lips.

"What on Earth..." he muttered. He was going to need to talk to her. For the moment, he appreciated their handiwork. His face was half covered, and it was all thanks to his own hand.

He washed it off, and headed back to his room to change out of his pyjamas. Ginny had apparently already gone with Ron down to breakfast.

"Morning," Harry said, dragging himself into a chair.

Everyone else replied in kind, although Hermione was blushing and staring down at her bowl.

"Now Hermione," her father said, "shall we find out why we're having breakfast at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning?"

"It was just a little prank," she muttered.

"And not only did you wake everyone in the house up with your shrieking, not even considering the neighbours..." Mr. Granger sighed. "On top of that, you used my shaving cream."

Mrs Granger gave her husband the universal 'are-you-actually-stupid' look.

"Now I don't mind you kids enjoying yourselves," he went on, "but if you're going to make such a racket, do it at a decent hour. Understood?"

"Yes Dad."

"Yes sir."

"Yes, Mr. Granger."

"Good," he smiled. "Now when is this Neville boy turning up?"

Harry felt a foot touch his.

' _ **Hey,'**_ Ginny said.

' _ **Hey,'**_ Harry grinned. ' _ **Err... Is she okay?'**_

' _ **Why Harry?'**_ Ginny smirked. ' _ **Ready for another round?'**_

' _ **Oh I am going to get you,'**_ said Harry.

' _ **You're going to try,'**_ Ginny laughed. ' _ **Seriously though, she's panicking a little, and I can't calm her down any more.'**_

' _ **Dammit, it was just a kiss,'**_ Harry griped.

' _ **Her**_ **first** _**kiss,'**_ Ginny amended.

' _ **Oh,'**_ said Harry.

' _ **Yeah,'**_ Ginny agreed. ' _ **Oh.'**_

They ate their cereal in silence apart from Hermione's parents, who did their level best to keep conversation going. Hermione looked up only to shoot quick, guilty glances at Harry before staring back down at her cornflakes.

He toyed with the bit of milk at the bottom of his bowl listlessly, waiting. To his relief, Hermione didn't take long, hurrying off to the kitchen and running upstairs. Harry waited until he was sure she was in her room before going to deposit his own plate. He reached out to turn the tap on, only to find a hand on his arm. Mrs Granger.

"What's going on, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, cursing the squeak in his voice. He was pleased by the way it was deepening, but these periodic malfunctions were beginning to grate on his nerves.

"You know what I'm talking about," Mrs Granger chided. "Why is my daughter so upset?"

"It's my fault," Harry sighed.

"Go on," she pressed.

Harry tried to let his arm drop, but she held it firm. A gulp forced its way down his throat. "I was asleep, and in my dream, I was... Anyway, she was there doing whatever with the shaving cream and the feather duster, and I..."

"Tell. Me."

"I kissed her," Harry whispered, looking at his shoes.

Mrs Granger withdrew her hand to rest her head in it. "Aren't you going out with Ginny?"

"I didn't mean to kiss her!" Harry hissed frantically. "I mean, it's not that I wouldn't, I mean, she's pretty and smart and she's got a mean streak that's a lot of fun, but..."

"Harry," Mrs Granger interrupted. "Calm down."

Harry stared at her. Taking a deep breath, he leaned heavily against the sink.

"Good," she smiled. "Now go up there and talk to her. If she isn't bouncing down the stairs on the way back down, you'll pay for it, understand?"

Harry felt the panic overtaking him again.

"Such a sweet, silly boy," Mrs Granger sighed. "Go on."

Hurrying up the stairs, Harry found Hermione's door closed. There was a fear gripping him like no other. Surely the shut door meant she didn't want to be bothered? Every excuse not to go in raced through his mind, but he bit his tongue, and knocked.

"Who is it?" Hermione asked.

' _Was that a sniffle?'_ Harry thought wildly. ' _Is she crying?'_

"Harry," he told her. He sounded far braver than he felt. It might have been a good idea to go to the toilet first. Why wasn't she saying anything? Maybe she thought he'd just go away if...

"Okay," Hermione said.

Harry found her sitting at her desk, flipping aimlessly through her Potions notes.

"Hey," said Harry. He didn't sound quite so brave anymore. ' _Dammit.'_

She smiled weakly, schooled her features, and then snorted. Harry stared at her, wondering if she needed a doctor. When she looked up at him, her eyes did seem oddly bright.

"I, err..." she began. "Sorry."

"No, it was my fault," Harry said. "I think. I wasn't very..."

"Conscious?" Hermione snorted.

"Yeah," Harry muttered.

Hermione cast aside the countless sheets of paper and stared at the wall instead. "Look, I know you didn't mean to..."

"Hermione..." Harry said, putting a hand behind her shoulder. She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. "Why is this so hard? I was having a dream. I was-"

"I know," Hermione cut in.

Harry sighed heavily, sinking into the chair next to her. "Listen, if I was going to kiss someone and it wasn't Ginny..."

Her breath caught, her eyes widening as she stared at the table.

"I'd want it to be you," said Harry. "I'm just sorry your first kiss couldn't have been more special."

Hermione jumped on him, hugging him fiercely. "You're not mad at me, Harry?"

"Why would I be?" Harry asked.

She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "If I hadn't tried to play that stupid joke on you..."

"I wouldn't have grabbed you and kissed you?"

"No, I..." Hermione muttered. "Anyway, even if it wasn't the romantic thing I'd hoped for, I'm happy that it was with you."

"Well, I guess that's cool then," Harry said awkwardly. Hermione seemed to notice why, and scrambled off him. "We're cool, right?"

Hermione turned away again. "We're friends. We always will be."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"Harry! Hermione! Neville's here!"

Harry jumped to his feet, racing for the door. Turning to grin briefly at a slower Hermione, he shot out in pursuit of his friend.

Neville was indeed standing in the downstairs hallway with his grandmother. He grinned up at Harry while his grandmother talked to Hermione's parents, Mr. Granger seeming particularly excited about the Apparition.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, grabbing his arm. He was dressed passably in Muggle clothes, which displayed his continued physical development.

Harry grabbed Neville's in turn, in a sort of unfamiliar variant on a handshake, before leading him over to the kitchen where his siblings had just finished up. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm great, y-" Neville stopped with a grunt as Ginny slammed into him. "Um, hi, Ginny."

"Hey," she said, letting go of him. "How's your leg?"

Neville shook it out and looked critically at it. "Much better, thanks. It's basically back to normal, I suppose I'm still just a little bit freaked out."

"No kidding," Ginny said sympathetically.

"Hey, mate," Ron grinned. "Not gonna do some dramatic limping back at school? Try and get some, uh, sympathy?"

They snorted with laughter.

Neville burned bright red. "No, I don't think so. How have you guys been?"

"Okay."

"Pretty good, yeah."

"Hey, Neville," Hermione smiled.

Still quite pink in the face, Neville turned. "Hi."

They seemed to consider for a moment, before embracing each other briefly.

"Neville?" his grandmother called. "I am leaving."

Neville led them back out into the hall, where he gave Mrs Longbottom a quick hug. She nodded to them, and Disapparated with a _crack_.

"So, Neville, you never got to see Hermione's dad's car, did you?" Ginny grinned.

Mr. Granger's eyes lit up, and his wife clearly noticed. "No, you are not going to go tearing around the streets at eight thirty on a Saturday."

"I'm just going to show him," Mr. Granger said. "I'll take them down to the old estate in the afternoon."

"Alistair..." Hermione's mother sighed.

"Come on then, Neville," the tall man said, pulling on his shoes and opening the door.

* * *

Harry waited for Neville's tour to finish before bringing up the topic he'd been waiting for this moment to share with him and Hermione. "Guys, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Harry got a... visitor the other day," Ginny said.

"A house-elf," Harry said.

Hermione frowned. "That rings a bell, but I don't know..."

"They're..." Neville began, but stopped, turning red.

"Slaves," Ginny said.

Hermione looked around sharply. "I'm sorry, what?"

"They're a small people," Neville said, still blushing deeply. "About this high. They serve wizards."

"Not just slaves..." Hermione muttered. "An entire enslaved _race_?"

Neville averted his eyes. "Yes. I don't know when or why or how, but that's how it is."

"They, uh, tend to belong to wealthier wizarding families," Ron added. "Mum's always saying how she wished we had one to help with pressing our clothes."

Hermione glared at him. "I suppose another person's freedom is small price to pay for the convenience of having your clothes clean and ironed for you in the morning."

"Hey, I said Mum said it, not me!" Ron protested.

"Hermione..." Ginny said placatingly.

"No!" said Hermione. "I won't stand for this abuse!"

"What are you talking about?" Neville frowned.

"Oh, don't tell me, you're going back to your own slaves tomorrow evening?" Hermione scowled.

"Tilly and Mitzi are not slaves!" Neville insisted. "They're my friends!"

"Shut up, all of you!" Harry said.

Hermione glared up at him.

"You call yourself a scientist, Hermione?" Harry said, his voice lower but still annoyed. "You've asked no questions, haven't waited for all the facts, just fly off the handle because you've heard the word 'slave'."

Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Neville's hurt expression, before looking at Harry with slightly less venom. "Wouldn't you?"

"I'm not happy about it," Harry said. "But we're your friends, Hermione. You know us. Do you think we'd support slavery?"

Now she looked positively ashamed. "Fine, I'm sorry for turning on you like that. But will you please explain this to me?"

"Probably best if you take this one, Neville," Harry muttered.

"You tell her about it," Neville said, looking away. Hermione winced, but bit her lip and didn't say anything.

"Hermione, house-elves are really happy about the way they are," Harry said. "It's a little disturbing actually."

"You mean you've met some?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, quite a few. They... take pride in their work. Anyway, they supposedly need to be bound to a wizard family to survive. I was going to try and find out if it was some kind of curse."

"It's a kind of blood magic," Neville said. "I don't know what started it, but they don't get sustenance from food and water, they get it from their family's magic."

"So if someone frees their elf, and the elf can't find another family to take them..." Ginny said.

"How?!" Hermione cried.

"We don't know, Hermione," said Neville. "Nobody knows. But that's the way it is, and we can only make the best of a crappy situation."

Hermione put her head in her hands, breathing deeply. Harry turned to give the others an uncertain look, but Hermione chose that moment to sit up straight once more. "I can't accept this. I won't."

Ron shrugged, picking at his trousers.

"So what will you do?" said Harry.

Hermione glowered at her hands. "I don't know! But I'll figure it out."

Ginny pulled her into a hug, whispering something in her ear. Hermione nodded distractedly.

"Well, uh..." Neville tried. On meeting no resistance, he went on. "What did the house-elf want, Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry griped. "He disappeared before he could tell me."

"Just start from the beginning," said Hermione.

So he did. He recounted every detail of the evening that he still could recall, from the little elf's appearance to the Patronus messages.

"Best keep an eye out," Neville said.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Just wanted to let you guys know, you know, in case he turns up or tries anything with you. Don't know why he'd try to intercept Hedwig..."

"That's the strangest thing..." Hermione frowned. "He didn't mean you harm, but he turns up in your bedroom unannounced and tries to tamper with your mail. He's behaving so very... suspiciously."

"Well, I suppose the next time he turns up I'll have to find out what the hell he wants," Harry sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"In the meantime, tell us about your project, Neville!" Ginny urged. "You've been keeping really quiet about it."

Neville scratched at his neck awkwardly. "Well, I managed with the shrivelfig Professor Sprout gave me to start off with, so she's given me the Asphodel seeds she promised me, and some Aconite."

They cheered him raucously, galvanised to excess by how much he looked like he wanted to hide his head. Ron gave him a brief punch to the shoulder, to which Neville grinned bashfully.

"Yeah, they've already germinated," Neville continued. "This particular variety of Asphodel is kind of... entropic."

Ginny stared at him. "You're joking!"

"Entropic?" Hermione asked. "You mean it causes chaos?"

"What?" Ron frowned.

"Entropy..." Hermione said, blushing. "It's the tendency of all things to exist in a disordered state."

"Wizards take a different meaning," Neville explained. "For us, entropy means... well, it means feeding on death, or on life energies so as to cause death."

Hermione's expression turned incredulous. "Are you saying you're making blood sacrifices to a plant?"

"Well, not really sacrifices," Neville grimaced. "I mean, it's not ritualistic, just..."

"Oh, Neville, that's horrible," Ginny whispered.

"Hermione, you pay more attention in Potions than us," Neville said. Hermione was deep in thought though.

"I've seen loads of references to entropy in Potions..." she muttered. "I thought they meant thermodynamic entropy, not... this. What do you... do?"

"The plant only awakens when something dies nearby," Neville explained. "I used a slug. After that, its entropic power increases so it can actively steal life energy from greater and greater distances around it. I, uh… have to grow it in isolation."

"But what about you?" Hermione cried. "Won't it steal your energy?"

"Warded clothes," Neville smirked. "Dragonhide gloves are enough at school, because they don't allow anyone other than professors and NEWT students near the awakened entropic plants. I've got a full protective suit."

"Sweet," Ron grinned. "You reckon she'll let you into those restricted greenhouses ,then?"

"I don't know," Neville said, shrugging. "Guess I'll have to ask."

"You're going to get _so_ much extra credit," Hermione groaned.

Neville grinned at her. "Not jealous are we, Hermione?"

"Of course not," she said. "I make that much back just by staying awake in History of Magic."

"Or you would if Binns noticed he even had a class in the room," Harry pointed out.

"How is he even still teaching?" Ron laughed.

"Teaching's a stretch, Ron," Ginny smirked.

"Do you reckon he ever talks to the other teachers?" said Neville.

Hermione chuckled suddenly. "The meetings must be interesting."

"And Professor Binns," Ginny ground out, her voice scratching and bottoming out as she tried to imitate Professor Dumbledore, "do you have anything to say about the class schedule?"

Ron and Neville had already lost it by this point, while Hermione was torn between amusement and her unwillingness to poke fun at such a respected figure.

"Professor Binns?" Harry asked in Professor McGonagall's sharp voice. "Professor Binns, are you with us?"

"Well, obviously not," Neville drawled, sneering in a very Snape-like way, though the effect was broken by his intermittent bursts of laughter. "The late professor has not been with us for a great many years, Professor McGonagall. Although I'm sure Potter has something to do with his current state. Potter's always up to something. Potter, Potter, _Potter_..."

Harry snorted, trying to control himself for another go, but he couldn't hold it in.

"Are you lot going to go and wash yourselves or are you going to sit around in your pyjamas all day?" Mrs Granger called.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're used to the boys smelling, Mum."

"Hey!" Ron cried indignantly.

Harry only grinned. " _Thanks,_ Hermione."

"I'm just telling it how it is," she said, though her lips were twitching.

"All boys smell, but tell them if they don't shower I'll have at them with air freshener and hairspray until we can't tell," Mrs Granger called back.

Hermione laughed. "Okay, go on, you heard Mum. Have you all got towels and things?"

* * *

Harry took more time to appreciate what Mr. Granger had created now that he was being taken for a ride in it. The interior didn't have the outrageous quality of the body kit — in fact it seemed to be the standard set up. But Hermione's father made absolutely clear once they reached the abandoned industrial estate's car park that this was no tame family car.

"Bloody hell!" Ron yelled, as the car emitted an angry roar. From the back seat, the exhaust note was quite definitely audible. They'd left Hermione with Mrs Granger back at the house, as there was no room, and apparently neither wanted to be within hearing range. As they accelerated towards a lamppost, Harry realised why.

With practised ease, Mr. Granger turned away from the obstacle, flicking the gear shift down to second and turning in hard towards the innocent metal pole, the engine howling eagerly with the turbo whistling faintly in the background. The tachometer needle was hammering away in the redzone as if trying to shake itself loose. Just as the weight shifted, he tugged the handbrake up before slamming it straight back down again. And the car slid gracefully around the lamppost, nose almost kissing it as they passed the apex of the turn. Mr. Granger's foot pulsed on the accelerator pedal, the steering wheel held securely in opposition to the turn as the tyres screamed in protest.

Harry turned to look out through the tinted window. The strange sight of the ground moving towards him quirked his already grinning lips. On his other side, Ginny was being pressed tightly into him by the force of the turn, whooping and shrieking her delight. Mr. Granger let go of the steering wheel, and it began frantically spinning back as the slide drew to a close. A mist of white smoke was rising through the window on the passenger side, but Harry had little time to appreciate it as the suspension rebounded, throwing them all to the left and back into their seats as they leapt away from the corner. As the car found its feet, Mr. Granger upshifted smoothly, the turbocharger letting out a distinctive whoosh.

"Merlin's sagging _ballsack_!"

"Ginny!" Neville laughed.

Harry laughed with him, noting that Ron and Ginny just looked stunned. "That was incredible," he chuckled.

Hermione's dad grinned at him through the rear-view mirror. "It only gets better."

Slamming violently on the pedals, he turned the car into a wide, sideways arc that carried them around the whole side of the car park at a blistering pace. Thick smoke obscured the window on Ron's side, and the turbo kept whooshing and whistling as Mr. Granger toyed with the accelerator, keeping them going and going and going... Ginny was yelling, Ron was yelling, Harry was yelling, Neville was yelling, and the car just kept on sliding. Eventually though, the drift ended, and Mr. Granger downshifted again, turning the car into a slide in the opposite direction - one that put Neville in the path of an oncoming lamppost.

"Mr. Granger, there's-!"

Whoosh.

The engine's roar re-established itself as the car turned, violently, swinging around the lamppost and sliding towards the next one. Mr. Granger continued this terrifying slalom until Harry thought Neville would be sick. For his part, Harry would never consider this above flying, but he couldn't name many things that were more exhilarating. He could only imagine what it was like to be behind the wheel.

By the time they were done, the asphalt was covered with even more black lines than before, and there was a fine smoke rising from what seemed to be the whole park.

"So..." Mr. Granger said, sweating slightly and breathing hard. Not that any of them were a convincing shade of calm. "What do you think?"

"That was AWESOME!" Ginny blurted.

"I'm just glad Ginny didn't catch fire," Neville muttered.

"That's a thing you do?" Mr. Granger said, snapping around to look at her.

Ginny shrugged, sporting a blissful, carefree grin. "I'm keeping it under control, sir, don't worry."

"Good," Mr. Granger sighed, relaxing back into his seat. "A normal car detonating is bad enough."

"Detonating?" Neville repeated.

"Cars work through a system of controlled explosions," Ginny explained. "So if you explode all the fuel at once, it'll be bad."

"You're pretty well up on everything since that encyclopaedia, huh?" Harry grinned.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Amused, Harry poked her in the side, making her squirm and shriek.

"Aah! Harry!" she cried, grabbing his arms and trying to push him off, to no avail.

"Let's get back," Mr. Granger grinned. "Sarah's got plans."

The drive back was as quick as it was noisy. Mr. Granger turned on the radio, and they enjoyed the twenty minutes of mindless raving. Hermione's dad only observed their antics with growing mirth.

The sun was still high in the sky when they reached Queens Avenue, and several of the Grangers' neighbours were mowing their front lawns. They all looked up at the sound of the unsated exhaust pipes, and returned to their business with disapproving looks or tired smiles. For while Queens Avenue was not the rigid, prim affair that was Privet Drive, the modified 535 was an obscenity on wheels. It was a very elegant obscenity, but an obscenity nonetheless.

"Go on," Hermione sighed as she opened the door. "Vent your feelings."

Harry, Ron and Ginny were just about to, but Mr. Granger stepped forward. "Now Hermione, is that any way to greet your father?"

She blushed bright red, giving him a brief hug. Rather than let Hermione go, however, he carried her into the house, ignoring her loud protests. Hermione buried her head in her dad's shoulder to avoid their smirks. They shut the door behind them and followed him through to the kitchen, where Mrs Granger was waiting with a frown.

"Did you enjoy yourselves?" Mrs Granger asked, though her lips twitched.

The expected, honest and unequivocal answer made her smile and sigh in equal measure.

"Well, I suppose your particular brand of madness has some entertainment quality, Al," she said. "Causes its fair share of heart attacks, but still... entertaining."

"You think I do it for the tyre bills?" he grinned, pulling a bottle of Fuller's out of the fridge.

Apparently Mrs Granger was giving up for the moment, as she turned back to them. Specifically, she looked to Ginny, and with a warm smile. "Would you like to come with me and Hermione on a little shopping trip, Ginny? Just us girls."

Ginny looked at her for a moment, turning slightly pink, before grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him over to the side.

"I have a few sickles from Christmas," she said urgently. "If I give you that, do you have some Muggle money?"

"I didn't bring any," Harry confessed. He hadn't expected much more than sitting around chatting, and maybe visiting a park. Not that Hermione's garden wasn't pleasant or big enough.

"Drat," Ginny muttered.

"Err, was it something I said?" Mrs Granger asked, only half-serious.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Granger," Ginny said, contrite. "I don't have any money."

Hermione's mother looked almost relieved. "Ginny, you're ten. I'm paying."

Ron and Ginny both seemed distressed by this development, and everyone noticed.

"Honestly, it isn't a problem," she sighed. Her husband put a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, kids, we're not going to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable," Mr. Granger said. "We already discussed this with your father, although it probably would've been an idea to make sure you knew about it. If you don't want to go, Ginny, you don't have to."

Ginny bit her lip, visibly torn.

"You can just come along, and decide later," Mrs Granger offered. "We'll be taking the Astra, so you can see how civilised human beings drive."

"And how women park," Mr. Granger smirked.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" his wife challenged, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Funny, I heard something too," the lanky man said, looking around.

Mrs Granger grinned. "That's what I thought."

She shooed the girls to the hallway, snagging a set of keys from the tabletop. They followed, and not two minutes later the baby blue hatchback was pulling out of the driveway, the garage door closing behind it. Hermione and Ginny gave them a little wave as they went.

"So what do we fancy doing?" Mr. Granger asked, shutting the door. The sound of the girls driving off faded away, and Harry felt his awareness of Ginny's emotions slowly become more uncertain.

He looked at Neville and Ron, who both shrugged. To be fair, Harry couldn't think what he wanted to do himself.

"Is there anything good in the cinema, sir?" Ron asked.

The dentist smiled wanly. "Sarah's not going to shut up about this... Oh why not. Let's go and watch Batman."

Harry let his mind wander as they rolled out in Mr. Granger's car. It seemed that although it was the metal embodiment of rage, the BMW could behave itself if treated very delicately. People still stared of course. Nothing short of an enchantment could make the thing subtle now.

This wasn't what his thoughts were concerned with, however. He wasn't even thinking about Dobby, or the multitude of reasons the house-elf might have had for turning up in his bedroom. Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about Hermione.

Ever since the kiss they'd shared that morning, she'd been avoiding his eyes. She wouldn't spontaneously engage with him at all, as if she were passively ignoring him. It wasn't that she was being hostile, just behaving strangely, and Harry found it surprisingly hurtful. He'd thought that after they'd talked about it there wouldn't be any issues.

Harry barely noticed their journey. One moment they were pulling out of Queens Avenue, and the next Mr. Granger was parking the car. The movie pulled him out of his funk for a couple of hours, but once they were back in the car, he felt his good mood begin to subside.

"Harry," Neville muttered. They were eating spaghetti bolognese in front of the Grangers' large screen television, waiting for the women to return. "What's wrong?"

' _I accidentally made out with Hermione, and while Ginny finds it really bloody funny, Hermione's got the hump. Maybe my breath was really bad this morning.'_

"Nothing," Harry replied.

Neville grunted. "Right."

Harry sighed, but ignored it. This didn't need to get any more complicated.

A whirring, grinding sound alerted them that the garage door was opening. The girls were back. Sure enough, a few minutes later Ginny was snuggled in beside him on the sofa, tired but content. Harry turned an amused look on her, but her narrowed eyes warned him against prodding her about it. He couldn't understand why the Weasleys were so odd about money, but he would respect their wishes. At least from now on.

"How was your evening?" she whispered.

"Watched a movie with some good explosions," Harry shrugged with a grin. "You?"

"I didn't realise Muggles sold so many clothes," Ginny sniggered.

"Dammit," Harry groaned.

Ginny's eyebrow shot up. "What now?"

"I owe Neville a sickle," said Harry. "I thought you'd be going through all the bookstores."

Ginny laughed aloud, drawing strange looks from the others. Apparently, the conversations had gone down rather different paths.

"Well, I'm sure Hermione wanted to, I mean, she gave the library this longing look..." Ginny snorted.

"My relationship with books is entirely platonic, I assure you," Hermione sniffed.

"You should probably have a long talk with Hogwarts: A History, then," Ginny grinned, "I think you're leading it on."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny, but even her parents were stifling chuckles.

"My little girl's future is almost as bright as she is," Mr. Granger said fondly. Hermione turned a bright pink. "But the future of any man who gets between her and a hardback is likely to be the hospital."

" _Dad!_ "

When it came time on Sunday evening for them to leave, Harry felt a horrific wrench in his gut. It was like leaving Hogwarts all over again. Was this what happened when you were given things to enjoy, and to love? That eventually you have to suffer the pain of losing it? But he wasn't losing. He was going back to the Burrow, and he'd see Hermione and Neville soon enough anyway. The only way he could lose was if Voldemort… But he wouldn't. Harry wouldn't let him. Ever.


	23. 23 - Reunion

" _Knew?! Knew?! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that… that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"_

"That outburst…" Madam Pomfrey said.

They weren't sitting in his room this time. They had chosen the top of a nearby rise, peaceful in nature's grace, with only the gentle wind to disturb them. Harry looked up at Madam Pomfrey, signaling that he was ready to go on. He was just surprised at the strength of the memory, although that wasn't as surprising as the monologue itself had been. Nobody ever mentioned the Potters at the Dursleys', and suddenly there was Aunt Petunia, venting what seemed like years of pent-up feelings.

"What do you make of it?" she finished.

"Well, I don't think she liked my mum very much," Harry muttered. He drew a breath, trying to focus on Aunt Petunia's words. "I… Actually, I don't know what happened to my grandparents. On my… on Mum's side, anyway."

Madam Pomfrey stared down at the Burrow. "They died, Harry. In the War."

"Oh," Harry said. He got the sudden, horrible feeling that he shouldn't ask after the circumstances. "Do you think Aunt Petunia blamed Mum for that?"

"It's possible," the nurse agreed. "Likely, even. But is there more?"

Harry stared at his hands. The Dursleys' hatred of him had been a constant in his life. This added depth to Aunt Petunia's character was at the very least unsettling, and he wasn't quite sure how to feel.

"Lily this…" Madam Pomfrey prompted. "Lily that…"

"You're saying she was jealous?" Harry asked.

Madam Pomfrey just looked at him with a kind of gentle encouragement.

"So she was jealous of Mum, because she didn't have magic," Harry murmured. "And she was dumping that onto me…"

"I think you should talk to her. Not now," she said quickly, seeing his displeasure at the idea, "not necessarily, but you need to settle things with her at some point. There's a lot of issues still unresolved, and she deserves peace as much as you. At least as far as her sister's memory is concerned."

This conversation was responsible for Harry's low mood as he sat with Ron and Ginny, absently pulling grass out of the ground. There was something strangely satisfying about it. Ginny was collecting flowers to put in her hair...

As he watched her threading the bright primrose flowers into her orange-red locks, Harry's focus shifted away from his dark thoughts. The light breeze brushed some of her hair over her pink cheeks. Flying and fluttering with each gentle gust, the strands tickled at Ginny's soft lips and the tip of her little nose. She turned and caught his eye.

Harry couldn't hear what she was telling him, but he read it in her contented smile, the softness of her gaze and the emotion pouring through their bond.

"You're doing it again," Ron snorted.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Their brother was becoming more accepting of their... relationship. He still wasn't in the slightest bit happy about public displays of affection, but Ron no longer seemed to disapprove of their being together. It was a welcome change, considering the merciless teasing Ginny was giving Harry over the Hermione incident. At least she hadn't let anyone else find out.

Skipping over to Harry, Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron as she came. Ron groaned and turned his attention back to the GameBoy.

"Stop that," Ginny said, stilling his hands. Harry yanked out the remaining grass with his fingers and began to flutter the blades over her palm. "Harry that tickles... Heehee, stop."

"Where is the rebel base?" Harry grinned, bearing down on her and tickling her neck.

"Gak!"

Harry fell back laughing. When he had recovered enough to sit up, he was met with a death glare.

"What in bloody hell was that?" Ron asked.

"The sound of victory," Harry sniggered.

All of the plucked grasses suddenly floated up around him.

"Oh really, Potter?"

"Goddammit."

They returned for tea in high spirits. The twins were in suspiciously high spirits as well, but they chose to ignore that concern.

"Ah, Harry," Mrs Weasley said. "An owl came for you from the Ministry."

"Do they want to question me about Professor Quirrell?" asked Harry quickly.

"Why would they do that?" his mother asked. Harry frowned, considering the widespread speculation at school and the complete lack of media coverage, but didn't voice his concerns. She handed over the letter, which was addressed to Harry James Potter, The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devonshire. Strange how just that was capable of giving him this warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

"Thanks, Mum."

The letter, as it turned out, was a request for the second meeting with Miss Protcham from the Magical Contracts and Bonds Office. She wanted to come over on the coming Monday. Mrs Weasley said it was fine, so he sent Hedwig along with a reply. His snowy owl didn't even wait to be told where she was going. She just grabbed the letter, gave his ear a little nip and flew off into the sunny afternoon.

"Well, okay then," Harry shrugged.

Ron laughed at him. "Come on mate, let's play chess."

"Ron, you've beaten McGonagall," Harry said. "What challenge am I?"

"Good question," Ron grinned. "Ginny, want to come and help Harry lose to me?"

She replied with her hand.

* * *

Harry woke up on Monday morning to warm sunlight and a shadow lying over him. Reaching out swiftly, he grabbed whatever it was and found...

"Dobby?" Harry hissed. He released the elf, who dropped back and bowed deeply, before looking furtively at him and shrugging nervously.

"Dobby is apologising most profusely sir, but Dobby was nearly being discovered, Mr. Harry Potter, sir."

Harry kneaded his forehead, trying to work the sleepiness out. "Do you really think there's anyone in this house who doesn't know you were here?"

Dobby gulped visibly. "Sir, if Dobby's family was knowing that Dobby is here, sir..."

"Just please tell me why you're here," Harry groaned.

"Dobby is afraid that it is difficult, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, pulling at his massive ears. "Dobby wonders where to begin."

"Well, let me get out of bed and we can sit and talk about it."

"S-sit?" Dobby muttered.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. This poor elf was not helping his groggy head. "There's a chair behind you, take a seat."

Dobby let out a sob.

"What," Harry muttered.

Dobby was actually crying, though it wasn't so loud that Harry was concerned about waking Ginny. He could feel the abstract happiness of her dream. "S-sit down? Never... Never ever..."

Getting out of bed with a grunt, Harry knelt down and took the house-elf's hand. "I'm sorry, Dobby, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend Dobby?" Dobby choked. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard... like an equal..."

Harry did his best to comfort him, bringing over the desk chair and putting him up on it. Dobby stared down at the floor and burst into tears again. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the corner of the chair, saying, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't – what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the chair – Hedwig had woken up with a screech and had abandoned her cage in favour of circling overhead.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…"

"Look, don't hurt yourself while you're here, okay?" Harry sighed. "I know I can't overrule your family's orders, but surely if they haven't told you to punish yourself then you don't need to?"

"Harry Potter doesn't want Dobby to be hurt... Dobby has heard of Harry Potter's greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew..."

Harry felt his cheeks burn. "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is utter rubbish. Ginny and Hermione are the brilliant ones. Although I do have to be good to make up for Ginny's evil..."

"Harry Potter sir is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_..."

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron came about this close to a heart attack the first time I said it."

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago… that Harry Potter escaped yet again."

"Okay seriously, how do _you_ know and there still hasn't been an official investigation?" Harry said. "Somebody died down there. I sure came close..."

Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears. "Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later… Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

"What," Harry said.

"Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and tried to bang his head against the wall, but Harry tackled him.

"All right!" hissed Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?"

A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him.

"Hang on... this hasn't got anything to do with Vol – sorry – with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not – not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir –"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"So the people doing this have absolutely no connection to You-Know-Who?" Harry pressed, trying to think of other major threats. Grindelwald, the Dark Lord that Dumbledore's chocolate frog card said he'd defeated, was a small possibility. If Dumbledore was still alive, some of Grindelwald's followers might still be too.

But Dobby was squirming.

"There is a connection..." Harry muttered. "Are the people plotting this some of You-Know-Who's old followers?"

Dobby tried to attack the wall again, but Harry stopped him, and he nodded, though it was becoming incredibly difficult to restrain the little guy.

"Okay, think, Harry, think..." Harry muttered. "Who apart from You-Know-Who could challenge Dumbledore?"

Dobby calmed his struggles for a moment, and Harry relaxed, sighing with relief. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" – Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper – "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't… powers no decent wizard…"

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the chair and started beating his head against Harry's desk with barely restrained yelps.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Dobby, you spend as much time in his bedroom as I do," Ginny grinned.

Dobby made a kind of squeaking sound, before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

"So..." Ginny yawned. "Find out anything interesting?"

"He's coming here to try to stop me from going to Hogwarts because some Death Eaters are plotting to do something there this year."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"We heard some awkward noises," said Fred, slipping into view.

"Decided better us find you than Mum," George added.

"We're glad we were wrong though," Fred grinned.

"You two spend more time snogging than breathing," George sighed.

"Shove off you two," Ginny laughed, punching Fred's shoulder.

George looked over at Harry. "Go on."

"What's happened?" Fred asked.

"Dobby," said Harry.

With every person he explained it to, more people turned up. When Mum came to investigate, they moved to the kitchen to discuss it over an early breakfast.

"So this Death Eater plot is supposed to be beyond Professor Dumbledore because they're using particularly dark magic?" Percy muttered.

"How else would anyone expect to best Albus Dumbledore?" Mrs Weasley said. "Merlin, the things they did in the last war…"

"Hogwarts will still be safe, right, Mum?" Ron asked.

"Safe is kind of a relative thing at Hogwarts," Fred muttered.

"Regardless, I'm sure the staff will be extra careful after last year," Mrs Weasley sighed. "But if there's even the slightest whiff of something amiss, I want you to tell me, okay?"

Harry nodded, and gritted his teeth. If something happened at Hogwarts this year, he wanted to be ready. Ginny was a powerhouse to be sure, but she was just one girl, and he couldn't be reliant upon a couple of classroom charms and jinxes if there was another… issue.

"Good," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Now, there's a special day coming up soon, isn't there?"

Harry looked up, curious, to find that everybody was looking at him. "What?"

"It's July now, Harry…" Ginny grinned, rolling her eyes.

Harry stared at her. "What."

"You didn't think we'd just let your birthday pass us by, did you?" said Mrs Weasley.

"Yeah, mate," Ron grinned, "birthday means presents."

Harry stared at them in turn, a smile pulling at his lips. That was still a novel concept.

"And Neville's the day before you," Ginny said. "He sent a letter yesterday about going to his house for his birthday and then coming here for yours."

"How come you didn't tell me?" Harry asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was _going_ to be a secret."

"Yes, well, I'm sure he would have figured it out at some point," Mrs Weasley said. "There's only so many random Floo trips you can excuse. Now, Harry, is there anybody you'd like to invite besides Hermione and Neville?"

"Well, uh…" Harry muttered. How did you make decisions like that? How many people _should_ he invite? "I mean…"

"How about the Quidditch team?" Ginny suggested quietly.

"Is that okay, Mum?" Harry asked.

Mrs Weasley laughed. "Of course, Harry, it's your birthday. Invite whoever you like."

Harry scratched at his neck nervously. The girls and Oliver were four, Neville and Hermione made six. Seamus and Dean were his roommates, even if he didn't spend a great deal of time with them, so that made eight. Besides, he'd been a part of their birthdays at Hogwarts, even if there'd been no official parties. He could invite Luna, and then… Susan. Susan made ten. But the one person he couldn't not invite was the man who'd rescued him from hell itself. Rubeus Hagrid.

"No Slytherins, Harry?" Mrs Weasley teased.

"No Ravenclaws either," Fred noted.

"Suppose Hermione's put him off the nerdier crowd?" George chuckled.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Ginny asked with a pointed glare.

"Nothing!" George grinned, putting his hands up in self-defence.

"Just that you could add up all the enthusiasm all the Claws have for schoolwork," Fred said.

"And it still wouldn't be as much as that girl's," George sighed.

"She'll die with a book in her hand," Fred said dramatically.

"Probably clobbering you two with it," Ginny snorted.

"All right, why don't you go and work on the invitations after breakfast," Mrs Weasley said, serving out bacon and eggs. "You know where everything is, don't you, Ginny?"

"Yes, Mummy," Ginny smiled.

"Susan Bones?" Ron asked. "Loony Lovegood? What gives?"

"For the millionth time, Ron, she's not mad!" Ginny said, glaring at him.

Ron shook his head. "Whatever. How come you're inviting them?"

"Because he's not a prick," Ginny muttered, fuming. Harry took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"I might not have spent much time with either of them," Harry said, "but _Luna_ is Ginny's friend. And Susan… well, that's more complicated…"

"Personally, I think it's a wonderful gesture, Harry," Mrs Weasley said. "Ron, what did I tell you last time about calling Luna that? I know they're a little… err… different, but that doesn't give you the right to start calling them names."

"Yes, Mum," Ron muttered, the tips of his ears going red. "Sorry."

* * *

"I'm so glad that this has been working out for you, Harry," Laetitia smiled, rising.

"Me, too," Harry grinned.

"Harry, I'll be straight with you," Miss Protcham said.

' _Well, the other way would be difficult.'_

She smirked slightly as if she'd picked up on his thought pattern. "I don't see any problems here. You've settled in well, your new family cares about you… When I get back to the Ministry, I'm signing you off."

Harry's grin widened painfully. "So, that's…?"

"All done, yep," she chuckled. "And you don't have to see any more of me, which I'm sure is a relief."

Harry blushed. "No, I…"

"Oh, don't worry, Harry," Laetitia laughed. "I'm only teasing you. Let me just go and say goodbye to your parents."

"Laetitia?" said Harry. "Thank you."

Miss Protcham knelt down and embraced him briefly. "It's been a pleasure, Harry. I'm just sorry that the story leaked so quickly. The newspapers have unrestricted access to any records going through that haven't been sealed by a head of department, but even still…"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "We're getting used to the attention."

"I hope so," she winced. "You being you, there'll be a lot of that."

"Take care," said Harry.

"You, too."

A few minutes later, she disappeared through the Floo connection.

"Well," Harry said as Ginny joined him in the living room. "That was… anticlimactic."

"Ooh, has Hermione been teaching you long words?" Ginny teased.

"Yeah, let me show you what defenestration means," Harry grumbled. "Seriously though, when they made the first decision at the Ministry, it was a massive moment, but this…"

"Does it matter?" Ginny grinned.

"Not a bit," Harry admitted.

Ginny grabbed his arm. "Tell you what, let's go celebrate."

"Why should we go anywhere?" Harry asked, spinning to pin her against the wall. Her eyes were wide and staring at his lips as her breathing ran ragged.

"Because here," George said.

"We have to see you," Fred continued.

"Every time we walk past," George finished.

With an awkward squeezing sensation, they were up in Ginny's tree. Unable to find his balance having gone from firm, flat ground to firm, rounded branch, Harry let himself fall. Ginny was already leaning against the trunk. Reaching out, he placed his hand next to her head and caught himself before he could crash into her.

"A little warning next time?" Harry grunted.

"Where's the fun in that?" Ginny panted.

Harry looked down. While Ginny could hop from branch to branch to bring the drop down to a metre or so, from here the fall was more like three.

"Geronimo?" Harry suggested, jumping off. He landed on slightly bent knees, letting himself roll sideways away from the tree. A foot stopped his roll, and he found Ginny standing over him.

"I have an idea," she said.

"Who should be scared?" Harry grinned.

Ginny raised her eyes skyward. "Come on."

Harry took her hand, and found his feet on... nothing at all.

"Ginny?!" Harry called, just as they slammed into the water. ' _ **I can't swim!'**_

' _ **Relax,'**_ she crooned in his head.

Her hand was holding his in a reassuringly firm grip, and Harry gritted his teeth, focusing on that. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore that he was submerged up to his neck and couldn't feel the bottom. And Harry soon realised that he wasn't going any further down. That didn't banish his fear, but it enabled him to control it as he held her warm hand tightly in his.

"I thought, you know, I could just dry us off afterwards," Ginny shrugged.

Looking around, Harry saw that they were in the middle of the river where Luna came to fish.

Seeing that he was no longer panicking, Ginny began to smile broadly. "And maybe I can teach you."

Harry's eyes lit up. The Dursleys had never taken him for swimming lessons as they had Dudley. They'd taken him to the swimming pool once, though — to watch. And then they'd gone down at the end so Aunt Petunia could fawn over Dudley, and the bastard had pushed him in. Water burned in his nose and his lungs were on fire, but in the baggy hand-me-downs the Dursleys made him wear, Harry's thrashing had only dragged him down, down...

Harry's breathing came ragged and shallow again as he went back to that moment.

"Hey," Ginny said softly, embracing him tightly and pressing her cheek to his. "You're fine."

Harry held her just as tight, breathing deeply in and out through his mouth. "No, I..."

He was staring into the yellow toilet water, pressing desperately against the sides of the bowl and yelling as Dudley and Gordon pushed him down... down...

"I can't..." Harry gasped. "Please..."

"Harry look at me," Ginny said.

Staring into her glowing eyes, feeling emotion flood through their link, the memories faded into background noise.

"I promise, you're safe."

His frantic heart calmed down, leaving a dull ache in his chest as he came down from his adrenaline high.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

Ginny looked horrified. "Harry, you think I'd have brought you here if I thought you were scared of water? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm not scared of _water_ ," Harry muttered. "Just, you know... being _in_ it."

"Merlin, I should've just Apparated us out," Ginny said, distraught. She did just that, with a little splash.

They lay dripping on the bank, and Harry stared down at the stream. "I've never even put a foot in water before. Not willingly anyway. I tried to take a bath at Hogwarts, and I just..."

"I'm so sorry," Ginny sniffed. He looked towards her, alarmed, but she wasn't crying. Not quite, anyway. "I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, I know what I was thinking, but I thought I could help..."

"You did," Harry said softly. "That's what I was trying to say."

Reaching out, he put a hand in the slightly murky water. A shiver travelled up his arm, but he forced himself to keep it submerged. Ginny put a hand on his shoulder, and in an instant he was dry.

"Do you want to go home?"

Harry turned to look at her. He remembered how she'd reacted to the idea of him being afraid of dragons. There was no disappointment in her eyes. She was worried about him. Somehow, that was both better and worse.

"No," he whispered. "Just... let's stay for a while."

"I remember that the water used to be dirtier than this," Ginny said absently. "Or at least, I remember it vaguely. When I found that place, I was pretty annoyed that I couldn't see the bottom of the river where it went past."

"Was it murkier than this?" Harry asked.

Ginny smirked. That section of the river was almost transparent, it was so clear. To be fair, it was only about a metre deep, but still... "It's only as clear as that for about twenty feet or so, but it's been that way for about five years."

Harry stared back down at the river. It was nowhere near the Thames, but he still wouldn't drink from it. "Is the water actually clean?"

"No," Ginny huffed. "I tried to drink from it once, but it wasn't nice."

"Sounds like you've got another project for the summer then," Harry grinned. "I wonder what the Muggles will think."

* * *

"Reading up on wards?"

Harry saw Ginny's expression go through about fifteen combinations before she Apparated out of her chair, throwing herself at her older brother with a cry of "Billy!"

"It's good to see you too, Firefly," he grinned.

William Weasley was a tall, powerful looking man with a demeanour that almost seemed dark, though his smile was warm and inviting. It was an intimidating effect. Although it was mitigated slightly by the babbling Ginny hanging off him. He carried her off up the stairs, chuckling at her antics.

"And how come I didn't know you were coming?" Ginny pouted accusatorially up at Bill.

"Didn't you like the surprise?"

Harry exchanged glances with the twins - Percy was shut up in his room as usual - who both looked as though Christmas had come early. They'd completely abandoned the cartoon they'd been watching in light of this interesting new development.

"If only Charlie was here as well," Fred sighed forlornly.

"Such a happy reunion that would be," George agreed.

"This is going to go badly for me, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Why so blue?" said Fred.

George grinned ominously. "You're a good bloke aren't you, mate?"

"What on Earth would you have to fear..."

"... from Ginny's closest..."

"... dearest..."

"... favourite..."

"... most lethally trained of brothers?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," George said.

Harry was sure he needed to visit the toilet.

"And did you see his hair?" Mrs Weasley's voice drifted in from the back door.

Fred rolled his eyes. "She's been at him about that since his seventh year."

"You're Head Boy now, you have to be presentable," George imitated, though very quietly.

"Hello, boys," Mr. Weasley said.

"I did think Mum showing an interest in your experiments sounded fishy, Dad," George said.

"Well played, Mum and Dad," Fred grinned.

"It appears we still have much to learn," George added.

Mrs Weasley adopted a stern look. "Preposterous. I have no idea where you get your mischievous inclinations from."

"Harry, you'll be sharing with Ron for the next two weeks," Mr. Weasley said. "Try not to make too much noise."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dad," Harry grinned.

"I'm sure," Mr. Weasley said.

When Bill and Ginny came back down, Harry found anxiety creeping through him. He couldn't stop rolling his ankle for some reason, and his collar felt much too tight.

"Boo!"

"Shit," Harry said, rolling forwards neatly under the table. It was almost smooth, until his forehead came up and smashed into its underside.

There was a splashing sound, and whichever twin had startled him cried out through his laughter. Ginny's hand grabbed him by the forearm, and suddenly he was groaning in pain at Bill's feet instead of under the table.

The man himself stood in what looked like a black dragonhide jacket and boots, the armour-like hide so thick it may have been battle-ready. Perhaps, with Bill being a Gringotts curse-breaker, that was the idea. Underneath was a close fitting, dark red robe that was clearly cut to not obstruct his movement. He looked down at Harry over crossed arms with a kind of open-mouthed, exasperated pity.

"This your boyfriend?" he asked Ginny.

"That's him," she giggled.

Harry sighed and stood up. "I probably should've been expecting that. Hi."

"Hi," Bill replied.

Harry then noticed the ear piercing, with a fang hanging from it.

"Goblin tradition," Bill explained. "You keep trophies. This was from my first job. Tomb had a bloody hydra in it. Wasn't very big, as you can see, but like they say, you always remember your first."

"How many heads did it have?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

"Fourteen to begin with," Bill grinned. "The last one's sitting in my apartment back in Alexandria."

"How'd Mum react to that story?" Harry snorted.

Bill raised an eyebrow. "She hasn't heard it."

"Bill!" Fred said extravagantly.

"Esteemed eldest!" George added.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Good to see these two haven't changed."

"Thanks for noticing," Fred winked.

"Where's Perce then?" Bill asked.

"You walked right past him," Percy said from the stairs. "How's Egypt treating you?"

"Nearly as well as England's treating you," Bill said. "How's that Prefect badge?"

"Oh, you know how it is," Percy said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I really doubt you're the kind of prefect I was, Percy," Bill smirked.

Percy seemed unsure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"Lookitim," Fred laughed. "Aww Perce..."

Percy seemed to get the message then and turned beet red.

"That wandless magic's pretty impressive, Ginny," Bill said. "I imagine you won the House Cup all by yourself this year."

"These three helped a little bit," Ginny said dismissively.

"The twins?" Bill said. "You sure?"

"No, you're right, they probably lost as many points as the rest of the Gryffindor team earned put together," Ginny sighed.

The boys in question bumped fists, grinning proudly.

"So I hear you lot have had an eventful year," Bill said.

They together managed to recount every single detail. Ginny even went to distract their mother while Harry and Ron told everyone what had really happened to the troll. Percy looked horrified and alarmed, but the others were deeply impressed. Bill agreed with Professor McGonagall's assessment of their deciding to fight it rather than lure it away, but he still seemed to admire their decision to intervene and prowess in bringing it down.

As the events became more and more dangerous, Bill started to look concerned. He was incredulous that they would put a cerberus behind a door locked only with a latch. The fact that the Philosopher's Stone was at Hogwarts didn't faze him, but he found its protections highly unsatisfactory.

"I've only done a few jobs so far," he said. "But I have never, ever seen something precious protected like that. You either hide it in plain sight, or you ward it so that nobody can run across it or its protections. Merlin's beard, a door? A door he warned the entire school _not_ to look behind? I'm surprised half the school weren't eaten. The Fidelius should have been..."

Mrs Weasley called Bill away then. He returned a couple of minutes later, sighing, "Dumbledore knows best though, I suppose."

He was slightly less critical for the rest of the retelling, and Harry assumed that Mrs Weasley had calmed him down.

When they had finished, Bill gave the three of them appraising looks. "Not bad for your first year."

"Dinner time!" Mrs Weasley called.

"Hey, boys," Bill said, blocking the twins off. "Good job."

They saluted, but their expressions betrayed their sincerity.

"And well done on going to _someone_ for help," Bill said, looking to Harry, Ginny and Ron. "There's three rules universal to fighting. One, avoid a fight. Two, make sure you have everyone and everything with you that can help. Three, end it quickly."

Harry could tell that Ginny was committing his advice to memory. She completely adored Bill.

"So what's your score?" Fred asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bill said, though his smirk was pronounced as they sat to eat.

"Oh come on," George prodded.

"Everyone knows curse-breakers keep score," Fred said.

George nodded. "Just like Aurors and Hit Wizards."

"That would be childish and spurious," Bill reprimanded, though his eyes were glittering with mirth.

"Yeah, yeah, it's probably just terrible," George snorted.

"Been hiding out in the desert on account of his horrific record," said Fred.

Bill rolled his eyes, but his trials weren't even beginning. As she sat to eat, Mrs Weasley laid into William's appearance with a sort of kindly insistence that must have been driving him up the wall. And yet the eldest son brushed it off. His mother was entirely undaunted though, spending much of the meal dropping little comments about his hair and how simple it would be for her to shorten it. Harry began to realise why Bill had taken a job on another continent.

"… with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.

"What kinds of treasure have you seen?" Harry asked, hoping to divert the one-sided conversation.

Bill grinned at him. "All sorts. Some of them I'm not allowed to talk to you about."

"Aw go on, Billy," Ginny insisted. "We've seen a Philosopher's Stone..."

Bill's eyes dulled slightly at the mention of their adventure. "Well, then I'm sure you've seen it all, haven't you, Firefly?"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Like a shot, Bill reached out and flicked the end of it. A surprised giggle burbled out of Ginny as she stared down at the spot Bill's hand had occupied.

"The goblins have been working on your reflexes?" Mr. Weasley said approvingly.

"My mentor, Victor, is the best," Bill shrugged. "Tough, but the best. He didn't even want me to take these two weeks off to come and see you guys, but I wrangled it."

"How did you do that though?" Ginny asked, awestruck. "I barely even saw you move, before..."

"A combination of wards and practise," Bill grinned.

Harry was going to have to look into wards. If he could study them at Hogwarts they might prove useful... In his head, he laughed at himself. He was turning into Hermione.

After the meal, as everyone was going to bed, Harry screwed up his courage and pulled Bill aside.

"Err, Bill," Harry grimaced. "Are..."

His elder brother chuckled. "Let me break this down for you, Harry. I could have predicted that Ginny would be head over heels with you five years ago. But both the twins and Percy seem to like you. We're not going to have an issue."

"Oh," Harry muttered. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me, I haven't done you any favours," Bill replied. "If you do something stupid, you'll still have six of us stomping on whatever she leaves of you."

"Yeah, I know," Harry smirked. As if Ginny would leave them anything to stomp on. "Night, Bill."

* * *

Harry trailed his hand through the slow-moving water, clamping down on the involuntary shiver.

"Take your time, Harry," Ginny said, standing in the river with the water lapping at her chest.

Nodding, Harry stood and walked in, the water soaking in through his trainers and making his socks squelch disturbingly within at the slightest movement. So far so good.

Ginny reached out and took his hands as he came within range, and his anxiety fled as he felt the amplified presence in his mind. "See, Harry?"

He grinned back at her. The water was cool and pleasant, if a little dirty; it swept around him, into him, an insistent request that he join it on its journey. A little too insistent, really, but without the Dursleys in the equation...

"Let's make some nicer memories," he said quietly, closing the gap between them and pulling Ginny into an impassioned kiss. She made a little keening sound, one arm around his neck and the other on his arm as she turned to putty in his embrace.

' _ **Harry?'**_

' _ **Yeah?'**_

' _ **Do you plan on learning to swim today?'**_

' _ **Sure, but I thought we could practise breathing underwater.'**_

She chuckled against his mouth. "Right..."

"So, what do I do?" Harry asked, indicating the water.

"Well, I guess the first thing would be to get you more comfortable with the water," Ginny said.

She had him lie on his back. As the water began to lick at the back of his head, panic burgeoned within him, but Ginny whispered in his ear, murmuring into his mind. His thoughts, scattered by his fear, refocused around her, and the adrenaline response faded. The water was covering his ear now, and his breaths were coming faster, but Ginny was there.

' _ **How does it feel to float?'**_

Harry grinned at her. "Ginny, you're amazing."

She blushed brilliantly, and flames rippled in her hair.

"Come on," Harry smirked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him, distorted through the water. "What's next?"

Harry hadn't expected Ginny to be a good teacher. Her temper was too short for the profession, and she rarely had patience for those who couldn't keep up with her. But Harry was a fast learner.

Within an hour they were side by side, fighting against the current. Ginny's superior technique was far more advantageous than Harry's strength, but she stayed with him, encouraging him as they were slowly driven down the river. Breathing was Harry's biggest issue. Ginny kept telling him not to raise his head so high; that he just needed to turn it, but it was like an instinctive response. If there was one thing that Harry had learned in the River Otter, though, it was that instincts could be suppressed.

Pull, inhale. Pull. Pull. Pull, inhale. Pull.

Slowly, slowly, they drew to a halt. Every time Harry breathed in he could see that the river bank was no longer moving. It galvanised him. Like liquid fire pouring down his spine and filtering through his veins, he felt himself shift into fourth, fifth... He was moving forwards now, and not slowly either. The fatigue that had been building in his legs from the strange, rapid kicking faded away.

His hand slammed into the riverbed, and he dragged himself out of the water, propelling himself onto dry ground. Behind him, Ginny floated herself up after him, grinning like a madwoman.

"That was brilliant!" she cried. "You're as fast in the water as you are... _everywhere_ else!"

Harry blushed at the praise. "Yeah, well, I had a good teacher."

Ginny beamed at him, Apparating the five metres between them to kiss him sweetly on the lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Potter."

"Well, then," Harry said, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek until she shivered, "it's a good thing there's so much to compliment."

"I thought you wanted to keep things the way they are," she whispered.

Harry smirked and pulled her in closer. "Yep."

It was becoming a problem, really. Just holding her close like this gave him irresistible pleasure, a primal thrill that raced up his spine and set fire to his skin. And that terrified him. He never paid too much attention to religion. Not only would the Dursleys rather have been strung up than be seen in church with him, but it was just another way for them to try to crush his spirit - by excluding him, telling him that God did not care for him... Yet Harry felt that these urges of his were sinful in some way. They were children, after all.

"You're an arsehole sometimes," Ginny muttered.

And there was the reason why it was becoming a problem. Harry strove to keep his private pleasure private, even from her. Did she go to bed every night and think of him the way he thought of her? If she did, then why couldn't she understand how important it was that they held back?

"Yep," Harry replied.

Her delicate fingers dancing on the back of his neck, her teeth on his lips...

"We're going to miss tea, aren't we?" Ginny smirked.

"Absolutely."


	24. 24 - The Best Birthday

Harry yawned, stretching until he could feel the strain in his calves. The 31st of July. He'd stayed up specially last night to celebrate the exact moment Hagrid had first burst into that shack on the sea. On reflection, not the best of ideas, but it was satisfying to see his watch strike midnight. For just a moment he had wondered if there'd be another equally spectacular event. Maybe someone would explode out of thin air and say, 'You a ninja, Harry!' and off he'd go on another adventure. An adventure in an adventure. An advenadventureture.

He shook his head, sniggering under his breath, trying to blink the crazy out with the sleep.

The previous day had already been amazing. Longbottom Manor on its own was incredible. No matter how impressive the room he had seen through the Floo had been, it was nothing to actually being there. The scale of the place was ridiculous, and Harry would not have been at all surprised to learn that it had been built for royalty. Although, seeing as how Neville's grandmother was addressed as the Lady Longbottom, perhaps it _had_ been built for nobility.

And the cake... Harry actually worried for the state of his health, because Mrs Weasley's cooking was more enticing than anything he'd ever known, and he was pretty sure he'd stuffed about a kilogramme of pure, delicious, mouth-watering diabetes down his throat yesterday already. Maybe wizards enchanted their cakes to make them even more irresistible.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he said softly, so as not to wake Ron.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Ginny beamed.

She ran in and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry grinned, returning the hug. "And my one year anniversary."

"Of finding out about magic?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded into her sweet-smelling hair.

"Well, happy anniversary too."

"I'm so glad that Hagrid's coming," said Harry. "I still laugh every time I think of the first time I met him."

Ginny smiled at him. He knew she'd heard the story fifty times by now, from his mouth or Hagrid's, but she listened intently every time.

"He's the only guy in the whole world who'll smash your door down, apologise, and then put it back," Harry laughed.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Ron said. "Hey Ginny, what are you doing in here?"

"Stealing your GameBoy," she said.

Ron almost fell out of bed in his haste. "You what?"

Laughing, Ginny raced out of the room.

"Mental, that one," said Ron. "You alright, mate?"

"I'm not doing too badly," Harry shrugged. "Expect I'll be even better soon."

"And it's your first birthday here and all," Ron said eagerly. "It'll be cake for breakfast, cake for lunch, cake for tea..."

Harry clutched at his stomach, feeling the discomfort just hearing Ron talk about it. "I think I'll settle for bacon for breakfast, to be honest."

"Can't argue with bacon and eggs," Ron grinned, "and some beans on toast. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, Ron," Harry laughed.

Ron gaped at him. "That's totally untrue. You think I'd sit around doing homework if I wanted to eat? Come on, Harry. Homework or food, you choose."

"Homework," Harry said. "I'd survive longer going hungry than with Hermione on my case."

"Seriously though mate," Ron laughed, "I'm starving, come on."

Suddenly suspecting a surprise of some sort, Harry followed Ron down to find... nothing. The house was genuinely still asleep. Reaching out to Ginny, he found that she was up in her room. Or he assumed it was her room.

"Morning, boys," Mrs Weasley said cheerfully from the kitchen. "And Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks, Mum," said Harry.

"Up bright and early," she said. "You're going to have to wait until all your friends arrive for the presents and cake though."

Ron looked far more disappointed than he felt, and he stifled a snigger. "We're just here to stop Ron's stomach rumbling. I was worried he was going to wake everyone up."

"You liar," Ron protested, only for his stomach to make its presence widely known. "That was the first one, I swear it."

"Sit, Ron," Mrs Weasley said fondly. "I'll bring you something in two ticks."

And so the day carried on. Everyone wished him a happy birthday. Bill headed in to London to get his return Portkey booked, and to help Dad clear the day's work so that he could give himself the afternoon off. Harry went to the paddock with Ginny, Ron, the twins and even Percy, and played aerial games of it, on rickety old brooms that were somehow more fun than their fully operational racing models. It might have had something to do with the fact that nobody was afraid of having their eye taken out.

"Okay," said Harry. "How about a game of bulldog? I'll be on first."

"Sounds fair," Ron laughed, having been it for the past three minutes. "But what's bulldog?"

"You guys all go to that end," Harry said, pointing at the goal hoops on one side of the pitch. "I stay in the middle. You try to get to the other end without me catching you. If I catch you, you're on with me."

"Not bad, Harry," Fred said.

"This is a Muggle one, then?" asked George.

Harry laughed. "All of these games are Muggle."

Harry sized up his five targets, as they lined up five metres off the ground. This game would be a bit more challenging for him now that he had to watch three dimensions.

Fred and George would probably be the most challenging, closely followed by Ginny. The twins already spent half their lives dancing around Bludgers, and would likely be as difficult to catch in this game as they had been in the last. On the other side of the spectrum, Percy was nonetheless surprisingly agile on a broom, seeing as he spent absolutely no time in the air.

He already had his first target marked, however. And she was smirking at him.

Fred and George burst forwards in different directions, and while Harry feinted towards Fred, he wasn't even looking at the guy. Ginny was flying next to Percy, who looked rather resigned to it. Darting at Ron, who jerked upwards in surprise, Harry launched himself into their path.

Ginny and Percy raced apart, and he flung himself off his broom, swinging it around under him so that he was facing the opposite direction. His feet found the brace with a satisfying thud.

It paid not to ride a broom with your groin resting on the handle, but whacking yourself there with an oaken pole was not a pleasant experience.

Harry launched himself forwards, drawing level with Ginny, though she was a good five metres away. Drifting slowly over to her, he brought his grip closer to his chest, letting her pull very slightly ahead. Just as he came within reach, she raced down towards the ground.

 _'_ _Like a Snitch,'_ he mused, smiling to himself. _'Only less manoeuvrable.'_

He urged his broom on. Her tail twigs were almost in reach now as he lined up over her. She couldn't go any lower, and as Harry took the shorter route down, she got closer and closer. Stretching out to give himself one final burst of speed, he noticed, almost too late, the tension in her right leg. He jerked his hands back as she kicked out, sending her tail in a sideswipe to the left.

Harry cut inside her turn. But Ginny was too smart to be caught out like that. She kicked out with both legs, pulling up hard on her broom handle so that she was standing on the footrests while the broom drifted forwards, pointing vertically up into the sky. Harry lost a precious moment admiring the way she looked, silhouetted against the sun, her hair blowing about in the breeze. Kicking his own broomtail out, he raced to intercept her on her upward course.

"Come on, Harry," she laughed. Executing a perfect slingshot manoeuvre that she really should have gotten trademarked by this point, she accelerated under his flight arc. Or tried to.

Holding onto his broom by one hand, Harry caught her shoulder. "Gotcha."

"Dammit," said Ginny. They shared a laugh, which was caught suddenly short by-

"Forward!" the twins yelled, racing overhead.

Ginny tore off to intercept them, leaving Harry hanging off the old Cleansweep Two by one hand.

"Ack!" Harry cried, swinging slightly from Ginny's launch.

The broom acquiesced to his will, coming around and under him as he chased after Percy.

By the time Mrs Weasley called them to lunch, they were all flushed and satisfyingly well worn-out from their exertions.

"So Perce," Fred said.

"Would you rather be out here with us?" asked George.

"Or stuck up in your room polishing your badge?" Fred finished.

"Actually, I've been polishing my wand," Percy said.

Ginny slammed her hands over her ears and ran into the house yelling gibberish at the top of her voice. George snorted and bit his lip.

"That was _clearly_ accidental," Fred said drily.

"I have no idea what you mean," said Percy, though he could not quite hide his smirk.

"What was?" Ron frowned, evidently having paid no attention.

Harry dreaded what George's predatory smirk was promising.

* * *

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said, embracing him briefly. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said. "How was your trip?"

"Well, it was safe, I suppose," Hermione sighed. Her father grinned. "And fast, I admit, we made good time."

"I know you enjoyed it," Mr. Granger said. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Hermione's father picked up a biscuit from the table and headed in, presumably to look for Mrs Weasley. Hermione raised her eyes to the heavens.

"Harry, I think I'd rather fly on a broomstick than go around in that thing," she said.

" _Hermione..._ " Harry said. "Don't just say things like that, that's a serious accusation."

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling. "Yes, well. Am I the first?"

"Looks like it," Harry grinned. "You think your dad's going to try and persuade my parents to show him some magic?"

"He's already seen some," Hermione said. "The wards, remember? He was so freaked out when the Burrow just appeared out of nowhere."

"And you were perfectly calm and collected, of course," Harry teased.

"Of course," she sniffed. "Oh, those decorations are nice. Who did them?"

Over the kitchen table was a series of glowing, golden ribbons, spelling out 'Happy 12th, Harry!' Multi-coloured orbs floated by the walls, producing even more light than that which streamed in through the windows. Ginny had even gone with Percy and gotten balloons from the village. Setting all of this up was, of course, what Mrs Weasley had been busy with while they flew around the paddock. And, presumably, making all of the snacks that were now decorating the dinner table.

"Well, that was Mum and Ginny," Harry said. "The twins told me last night that they're planning something too, but I'm not sure what to expect."

"Chaos would be your safest best," said Hermione.

"Well, let's go see if anyone else is sitting at the boundary looking really confused," Harry grinned.

Nobody was — they found only Mr. Weasley waiting to key people into the wards as they came.

Harry and Hermione were soon joined by Neville, Dean, Seamus, Oliver and Hagrid, and they headed in to the kitchen. They realised that this was going to be a problem only half way through, as Hagrid got jammed in the doorway. Laughing, they tried in vain to help him through, until Mrs Weasley hurried out with Mr. Granger.

"My word, are you alright man?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Oh, don't be so foolish boys," Mrs Weasley smiled. " _Cuurescium Aperus._ "

The doorway seemed to warp around Hagrid, becoming temporarily large enough to admit him.

"Thanks, Molly," said Hagrid. "Been a migh'y long time since I saw yeh last. 'Ow yeh been?"

"Hey, Harry, you been watching the Olympics?" Dean asked, seeing the television through the doorway.

"Of course," Harry grinned, recalling his and Ginny's resultant, poorly thought out attempt at butterfly stroke.

It hadn't turned out too badly, if you ignored the fact that a Muggle saw him swimming significantly faster than made any sense. They'd ended up continuing halfway to the next village just to avoid awkward questions. At least Ginny hadn't been caught Apparition-warping herself to keep up.

By the time Luna arrived, Ginny and the boys had come back downstairs with their presents.

"Oliver Wood," said Bill. "Hear you made captain."

"And we won too," Wood laughed, giving Harry a slap on the back. "Thanks to a swift recovery from this one. How have you been, Bill?"

"Hi, Luna," Ginny said, hugging her friend tightly. "Is your dad not coming?"

"He's very busy with the Quibbler, I'm afraid," said Luna. "Besides, it's only a fifteen minute walk. Happy birthday, Harry. I hope there aren't any nargles around..."

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to find a square-jawed, middle-aged woman, with short, greying copper hair kept neatly out of her face. Amelia Bones was Mr. Weasley's boss, Harry remembered, and the head of law enforcement. She certainly looked the part. She had an athletic build, and had her wand holstered at her wrist, just visible under the sleeve of her dark grey robes. Susan was standing just behind her, slightly pink in the face and keeping her eyes down.

"Err," Harry said intelligently, before blinking and catching up to himself. "Madam Bones. A pleasure to meet you."

Mrs Weasley smiled fondly at him, while Ginny stifled a giggle.

"Likewise," Madam Bones said, shaking his hand briefly. She had a very firm grip. "I am afraid that I cannot take a whole day off work to join you, but I trust you will take good care of my niece."

Madam Bones turned, kneeling in front of Susan, and muttered a few words to her which seemed to cheer Susan up a bit. Then she wished Harry a happy birthday and bade them all farewell.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Susan said quietly, pushing a small box at him and keeping her eyes resolutely fixed on it.

"Thanks, Susan," said Harry. He couldn't fathom why she was so shy.

"Hand it over, Harry," Mrs Weasley said sternly, though it was softened by her smile. "Not until everyone's here."

"Aww..." Harry groaned half-heartedly.

That got a smile out of Susan, though it began to quiver. Ginny seized her arm and Luna's and dragged them off somewhere.

"Err..." Harry muttered.

Turning around, he realised that everyone was getting on perfectly well with each other. Only, they were getting on without him. Laughing, Neville and Ron took pity on him, and they were soon eagerly speculating about what his presents might be.

"And thanks again for the Nephrexia, Harry," Neville said.

Harry had gifted Neville with seeds for one of the rarer plants used for OWL Potions ingredients. _Nephrexia meretus_ was not the most dangerous of plants, but the careful control of conditions required for it to grow properly made it relatively expensive for such a commonly used herb.

"It was nothing, really," Harry grinned. "I-"

"Go go Gryffindor! Go go Gryffindor! Go go Gryffindor!"

The twins' eyes lit up. Fred grabbed Oliver, while George seized Harry by the upper arm, and they formed a circle with the newly arrived Chasers. Harry let himself be carried with the tide. Jumping up and down, arm in arm with his teammates, Harry felt that familiar euphoria of victory wash over him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Dean, Seamus and Ron cheering along with them. Neville and Ginny were cheering too from where they stood with Hermione, who was just giving them a patient look. Even the adults were caught up in their fervour. Harry was sorely tempted to try to drag Hermione into the circle, but unfortunately he was too far away to try.

"So Oliver," Alicia said, as they calmed down.

"Seeing as how we're clearly in tip top condition..." Angelina grinned.

Harry gave his stomach an accusing look.

"What do you say..." said Fred.

"We ease up..." said George.

"On the old training..."

"Hmm?" the twins finished together.

Oliver turned weary eyes on them all.

"And this is why I never bothered with school Quidditch," Bill laughed.

Percy nodded sagely. "Of course not. You were far too much of a nerd, Bill."

Bill blinked, turning to the twins. "Did he...?"

"Yup," Fred grinned.

"We're still working on him..."

"But he's coming back..."

"In his own time," George finished.

"Have you lot put a Confundus on him or something?" Oliver said.

"We probably should have tried that, Fred," said Fred.

"Too right, George," said George. "Would have sped things up considerably."

"Or perhaps it would have doubled the damage," Fred mused.

"Knowing you two," Percy sighed, "a 'Confundus Charm' would have ended up requiring a bezoar."

"One time, brother!" they groaned. "One time!"

"Why would a charm need you to use a poison antidote?" Hermione asked, as if dreading the answer.

"We shouldn't say in polite company," Fred grinned.

Seamus began to chuckle, and knowing him, Harry imagined Seamus already had at least six ideas.

Just then, the girls returned. Ginny and Katie met each other's eyes, and Harry felt a sudden sense of impending doom. Alicia and Angelina were suddenly nowhere to be found, and everyone else had broken off into their own separate conversations. When Katie noticed this she seemed about ready to lose her nerve.

"Err... hey, Ginny," she said.

"I wasn't sure you were going to show up," said Ginny.

"Me either," Katie grimaced. "Look, about..."

"Ginny," Harry interrupted. "Can you please promise not to bite her head off for a couple of minutes, at least?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's my birthday, remember?" Harry smiled hopefully.

It was as if a balloon had been pricked. "Fine," Ginny said.

"Look," Katie sighed. "You're a really nice guy, Harry. But it was just a stupid dare. I mean, you're taken. I'm sorry I upset you, Ginny."

Ginny squinted at her. "Well, okay, then. But if you ever try anything with Harry, just remember that I have more on the twins than all of Hogwarts put together."

Harry found himself sighing in relief along with his teammate. That could have gone a lot worse.

"Thanks, Ginny," Katie smiled.

Fred nudged Ginny, and as she turned, George pulled a knife from somewhere to mock her earlier act of slicing through the air. Harry wasn't sure whether he was more amused by the act, or worried that the twins could pull knives out of nowhere. Katie seemed to be leaning towards worried.

Ginny controlled her giggling to scold them. "Boys, I just threatened Katie. She didn't need you backing me up with a lethal weapon."

Harry decided to pull Katie aside before they could follow that train of thought. Just as they found an unoccupied part of the kitchen (a task made particularly difficult by Hagrid's presence), Alicia and Angelina made their reappearance.

"Thanks for abandoning me to the wrathful girlfriend, you two," Katie fumed.

"Oh, anytime," Alicia chuckled.

"Happy birthday, Harry," said Angelina. Alicia repeated the sentiment, giving him a brief hug.

"You been _training hard_?" Alicia grinned.

"Definitely," said Harry. "Every other day, just like Wood said. No doubt at all."

"Reckon I hear some sass, Seeker," said Oliver.

"Well, you are getting on a bit, Wood," Katie laughed. "My grandad hears things too."

"Getting old, am I?" Wood smirked. "What was it we overheard that time after Christmas, Harry?"

Harry smirked. "You mean-"

"Any perfectly innocent references to people's names in wildly unrelated contexts would surely not be mistaken for anything... dirty," Alicia said, blushing.

"You talking about..."

"How him being called Wood..."

"Means he's probably got a big-"

"Fred!" Katie giggled.

"Well, I am pretty big, thanks for noticing," Fred grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry put his head in his hands. All his friends were mental.

"Wouldn't say he's Oliver's, though," said George.

"What do you reckon, Fred?" said Oliver. "Wanna go into Hogsmeade with me next term, see where this takes us?"

"Oh, Oliver, I don't know what to say!"

Abandoning them, Harry turned to look for less certifiably insane company and saw Luna talking to a rather lost-looking Susan.

"-the umgubular slashkilter in Minister Fudge's office?" said Luna.

Susan shook her head uncertainly.

"Well I suppose it was always an unlikely scenario," Luna shrugged. "He wouldn't want it discovered, even if he thought its bladed legs would make it a fearsome guard animal."

"Oh, hi Harry!" said Susan, turning pleading eyes on him.

"Hey girls," Harry grinned. "How've you been?"

Susan suddenly seemed to remember to be shy, and averted her eyes hurriedly, blushing. "Err, good... thanks Harry."

"Very well, thank you Harry Potter," Luna said. "I was just telling Susan Bones here about the cover article for the last issue of the Quibbler. One of the best selling issues to date - Daddy was so pleased."

"That's great, Luna," said Harry. "Do you work on the Quibbler with him?"

"Not really, but I'd like to write for it," Luna shrugged.

"Ginny's got a bit of an axe to grind with journalists," Harry smirked.

"No," said Luna, "only with idiots."

Susan sniggered.

"Fair point," Harry agreed. "So Susan, you got any pets?"

"Not exactly," Susan said. "Why?"

"Err," said Harry. "I... don't really know you that well. But you said how you have a way with animals, so I thought maybe you'd have a pet or two?"

"Oh," Susan said, blushing again. "Well, no, I mean, there's the animals on the grounds, but I wouldn't call them pets."

A few minutes later, Luna left to go and find Ginny. It took Susan a moment to realise she was alone with Harry. Then Harry lost all progress he'd made, as her face went bright red again and she looked at the floor.

"I thought usually it was girls that complained about boys not looking at their faces," Harry said, trying for a laugh. He got one, and he also got eye contact, but then her expression turned rather serious and sullen.

"Harry..." Susan said nervously. "Why... why did you invite me?"

Harry blinked at her. "I... what, sorry?"

"To your birthday party," Susan elaborated. "We've... we've only really talked once or twice all year."

"A couple of reasons," Harry shrugged. "I mean, you seem nice, and I'd like to be friends with you. I know you're friendly with Ginny. I... why wouldn't I invite you?"

"There's loads of people Ginny's friends with," Susan said. "And I'm sure loads of people in our year are nice. And apart from Ginny, there's only one thing we've already got in common."

Harry found a bright fire in her eyes as she said it, and he wondered what kind of answer she was looking for. Even the blush had faded, for the most part.

"Susan, you're not here so anyone can comfort you," said Harry. "Have you seen a pity party?"

"Well, no," said Susan. "Actually, your... mum?" At his nod she carried on. "Well, she keeps giving me sad eyes, but nothing else."

"Mum's a really kind, compassionate kind of person," Harry smiled, remembering how she'd exploded in front of the headmaster. "But I promise, I-"

Susan put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Thank you."

He gave her a lopsided little grin and, blushing madly, she smiled back.

* * *

Harry was most pleased by the Weasley boys' gift for him - a shield lock for his broom. It could be secured at the base, and as long as it was kept charged it would turn many hexes and curses into light and sound, making it very clear that someone was trying to tamper with the broom. The downside was that it would melt or explode when overloaded, but it gave Harry a much better chance than relying on a bitter, hateful Potions professor to protect him. Ron said that he, Fred, George and Percy had saved up for months to get one for him, and he made sure to tell them that he couldn't be more grateful.

"You, err, haven't enchanted it to heckle me or something when it's set off, have you?" Harry asked the twins warily.

"Why would it heckle _you_ , Harry?" Fred grinned.

Harry found himself, if possible, even happier with their present.

"But that's got to be NEWT level charms!" Hermione gasped. "Not to mention the Rune-work involved in the warding!"

"You know quite a bit for a first-year," said Bill. Hermione positively glowed at the praise. "Yeah, that's where I came into it. Added a couple more layers of protection and turned their little idea into reality. Not the most complicated job I've done, but hopefully it'll keep you in one piece, Harry."

"Thanks, Bill," Harry grinned.

Bill shrugged, smirking. "Sounds like you get into enough trouble as it is. Another little feature I've put on that means if you have a high speed collision, it'll discharge into a kinetic shield bubble. Heard you like suicide manoeuvres, so..."

"Well, then you've got all our gratitude, Bill," Hermione grinned.

"Hush, I've never crashed," said Harry.

Oliver laughed. "That's the spirit."

"Happy birthday, Harry," Neville said. "Hope you'll like it."

"Neville, it's a birthday present from one of my best mates," Harry grinned. "I'm already happy. That being said, I do hope it's not a picture of Snape in the shower."

"Thanks for the image," said Ginny.

The twins looked rather more pleased, and Harry wondered what fresh new hell they would unleash upon the school next year.

"Anyway, I know flying is the only kind of magical transport you're happy with," Neville said, handing him a present wrapped up in animated golden wrapping parchment. "So it seemed pretty obvious what to get you."

Harry tore through the parchment to find a box engraved with the words:

Long Distance Flight Kit For the intrepid broomstick traveller

Within was a saddle, compass and yet another warding device, this one intended to keep him warm and shielded from the elements.

"Might end up using this for some of our midwinter Quidditch practises," Harry grinned.

"Just so long as you mean the weather shield and not the compass," Alicia laughed.

His parents had gotten him Quidditch goggles, and when the Chasers got him his own Golden Snitch, he began to chuckle.

"Looks like I'm not getting any Quidditch stuff next year then," Harry grinned.

"The way you fly, you'll probably need everything replaced," Hermione said drily.

Harry shook his head mournfully. "You'll learn to enjoy flying someday, Hermione."

"Flying, perhaps," said Hermione. "Not whatever it is you do."

Harry opened his mouth for an indignant retort, but his brain couldn't keep up with his mouth. Hermione just smirked at him.

"Anyway, it's second hand, I'm afraid," said Alicia. "They cost a fortune, so even with three of us it was a bit much."

"Hey, girls, I don't care if it's fifth hand," Harry said. "Thanks."

By the time it came back to Ginny, he'd gotten a Fanged Frisbee from Oliver, a book on Seeker moves from Hermione, a pair of fingerless Quidditch gloves from Seamus, and a Super Soaker from Dean.

Harry turned an evil grin on Ginny and Ron, who groaned when they saw the picture on the front of the box.

"Cheers, Dean," said Ron.

"No problem."

Hagrid gave him a large tin of treacle toffee, but he wasn't exactly sure what Luna had given him. Neither, apparently, were many of his friends. It was some sort of crystal ball with a shifting, colourless fluid inside.

"An everlight," Luna said.

There were some approving noises from the adults.

"It doesn't burn wax or oil," said Luna. "If you are lost, or scared, hold onto it, and it will burn brighter than the Sun."

Harry was rather impressed. In spite of himself, he'd been expecting something a little more... strange. The orb was a comfortable fit in his hand, perhaps a little smaller than a tennis ball, and he saw that he'd be able to block the light from blinding him if she wasn't exaggerating its brightness.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry grinned. "I'll keep it for the next time Voldemort shows his ugly face."

There were several sharp intakes of breath.

"Harry..." Mrs Weasley said.

Harry sighed. "I won't fear him."

"Some people do," said Bill. "It's good that you don't, but show others that kindness, Harry."

"Fine," said Harry. "Sorry."

Mr. Granger was looking around with some measure of confusion, until Mr. Weasley took him aside to explain the taboo.

"Well, that killed the mood a bit," Ginny grinned. "Here."

Harry took the gift eagerly. It had been so strange to him at Christmas, the idea of receiving gifts. The fact that everyone had been receiving gifts at the time made it less awkward, but this situation of people taking turns to give just him, and only him, presents, was rather nerve-wracking. But once he'd sat down with everyone in the living room with all their gifts, he'd rapidly been drawn in, and forgot his anxiety.

Ginny's gift was a thick, green, woollen scarf.

"Made it myself," Ginny said.

"It's great, Ginny," Harry grinned, pulling her in for a brief kiss. "Thanks."

"Saved the best till last," Ginny smirked, inclining her head towards Susan.

"I..." Susan began, looking terribly embarrassed that the whole room was looking at her. "I asked my aunt if I could have a look through the old records..."

Mrs Weasley gasped. Harry turned, alarmed, but she was looking between the two of them with her hand over her mouth, a kind of anxious happiness on her face.

"And when I found this, I knew I had to have a copy made for you," said Susan.

Now filled with both curiosity and a small amount of trepidation, Harry unwrapped the gift to find a leather folder. His heart clenched as tightly as his teeth. On the right hand side, a little north of centre, in perfectly regular handwriting, were the words:

Auror Training Records

Potter, James Albert

1978-1980

Towards the top left corner was a large red stamp that read:

 _Graduated_

 _Distinction_

Harry gaped at her. Then he stared back down at the folder. Them he stared at her some more.

"I don't know what to say..." Harry croaked. "I... Thank you. So much."

"It was my pleasure, really," Susan said, blushing again.

Harry broke out into a massive grin.

"Cake!" Mrs Weasley announced.

It was like a starting pistol had been fired. Everyone shot to their feet, hurrying into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with Susan.

"I don't know anyone at St. Mungo's to get your mum's Healer training records..." Susan said.

"Hey," Harry said, taking her hand. "This is... this is really precious to me."

Susan smiled. "Cake?"

"Cake."

There were definitely enchantments involved somewhere. Harry couldn't get over how delicious the cake _looked_. There must have been some kind of charm on the door to keep the smells from spreading, because once he stepped over the threshold and he got a nose full of its sweet aromas, he was filled with an incredible hunger. It was a craving that only cake could satisfy. Only this cake.

On the table was a cake about half a metre across and twenty centimetres high, baked in the shape and colours of a golden snitch, carefully decorated with the same beautiful, intricate surface carvings and raised patterns. Embedded in it were twelve red candles, with bright golden flames. It was a true Gryffindor Seeker's cake. Harry supposed that Mrs Weasley had perfected it with Charlie. His mouth was already watering.

"Happy birthday to you," Hermione, Ginny, Katie and Mr. Weasley began.

The others cottoned on quickly, as if they'd forgotten the song, which Harry supposed was entirely possible considering how few wizard-born seemed to know it.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Harry! Happy birthday to you!"

"Make a wish, Harry," Mrs Weasley said.

 _'_ _I wish for the power to kick Voldemort's rotting arse, so that I'll never allow him to hurt me or my friends and family ever again.'_

With that thought in mind, Harry blew out all twelve candles with one big breath that made Hermione's hair flutter on the other side of the table.

"Hooray!"

* * *

It was late in the afternoon by the time Neville left. Harry stood at the ward boundary with Ginny and Ron, watching the shadows grow slowly longer. It had been a perfect, beautiful day all told. But there was only one thing on his mind. He walked back into the house, leaving Ginny to keep Ron occupied. He didn't have to tell her what he needed.

He grinned at his brothers, picked up the folder, and headed straight up to Ron's room. There, he collapsed onto his bed.

Opening the tan leather folder, the first thing Harry found was an animated picture of his father. James Potter was smiling slightly as he looked at the camera, but this wasn't the smile of a mischievous schoolboy, nor the smile of a happy father, as Harry had seen before. There was a hard look in his eyes, and his jaw was clenched slightly. At the bottom of the picture was written his name, and the date — 01/07/1978. He hadn't even taken time off after his NEWTS.

Behind that was another photo, this one dated 31/05/1980. His father stood in dark grey Auror robes, wand holstered at his wrist and an even darker look in his eyes. His parents were dead, his wife was heavily pregnant, and his world was in disarray. He was being sent out under orders to use Unforgivable Curses such as the Killing Curse on the Death Eaters they encountered. The Killing Curse that would eventually kill _him_.

Harry clenched his jaw, a breath coming shakily through his nose.

Blinking, Harry almost missed what came next. James almost blurred into motion, pulling a large, silver heater shield Harry hadn't noticed off his back and onto his left arm, while his wand shot out into his hand. The shield was emblazoned with a crest that Harry realised must be his own. It was a little small, but he saw the rearing lion on the family shield itself, with a griffin pouncing over the top of the shield, and longswords crossed diagonally behind. He couldn't quite make out the motto at the bottom, but he knew from his lessons with Mrs Weasley that it was 'novissima autem inimica destruetur mors'. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Another thing Harry picked up on was the change in his father's build through Auror training. He'd had an athletic, slim physique at Hogwarts, but military training had given him a build more like Charlie's, muscled like a maiden's dream.

 _'_ _I didn't know Aurors were issued with shields...'_

Harry put the two pictures aside, looking through the remaining documents. There was an application with his academic records, a personal statement and a physical, psychological and magical examination; then there was a series of weekly progress reports, mission reports and monthly medical reports. Susan had given him two years of his father's life.

He began flicking through the documents, noting the odd fact as he went. His father had been six feet and one inch tall, and had a magical channelling capacity of 34 Mansels at a maximum duration of 51 seconds, generating a distortion field of 1.4 times standard. Harry tried to make sense of those figures, but after a minute of scratching his head, all he knew was how tall his father had been. Perhaps Hermione could help.

The progress reports were equal parts amusing and painful to read. Auror training was grueling. From the looks of things, the Academy would either make or break its initiates in those first couple of months. It might have had something to do with the accelerated training regime during the war - the usually three year course was condensed into an intensive two year programme that saw trainees in the line of fire from a single year in.

The death tolls were horrific, but they were at least better than the Death Eaters'. While even the Aurors put little emphasis on physical training, they at least included it. You could last longer before going hypervitasic if you interspersed spells with punching people in the face. His father seemed to have realised this, and gone above and beyond the standard physical conditioning.

The Death Eaters, on the other hand, didn't seem to have much in the way of formal training. There was passing mention of the Dark secrets Voldemort shared with his 'inner circle', but records from deserters spoke of how the only real training the recruits got was practising spells on Muggle victims and duels with their peers. Harry grimaced, recalling what was said in the 'books about him' that Hermione had pointed him towards to pass the time when he wanted to hang out with the girls. The recruits that lost those duels tended to become targets for the others to practise their torture curses on. The bulk of the Death Eaters, he'd realised, were like wild animals. The people who didn't feel like living in civilised society, because the kinds of things they wanted to do with their time had consequences.

Harry had read admittedly little about the War in the last year at Hogwarts. The book he'd chosen to read while sitting in the library told of innumerable horrors, and he really took it off the shelf more to hold than to read, so he had only read three chapters in about six months. But with this new, more personal insight, he knew he'd be digging deeper. With all the books about the War, and all the fuss about his part in it, there had to be more information about his parents. From what little he'd heard of them, they'd been a major thorn in Voldemort's side even before their son blasted him out of his body.

Grinning darkly to himself, Harry went back to flicking through the dossier.

Right at the back was a document confirming James Potter's graduation from the Auror Academy. It commented on his exceptional physical abilities, including reflexes that had allowed him to use his shield to deflect multiple Killing Curses on missions.

Harry stared at the parchment.

James Potter's physical and magical strength and stamina make him a valuable shock trooper. In particular, his demonstrated ability to deflect curses, including the Killing Curse, with his family shield may prove vital on the front lines. Recommend deployment with Sirius Orion Black.

Harry stopped reading, feeling a cold hand grip his heart. Best friends at school, and squadmates in the war, and Black still betrayed him. For a moment, Harry just stared blankly at the parchment. He was so angry he didn't even want to think. But then he turned back to the photos of his father. One had wandered off-camera, while the other stretched his neck. The anger condensed from hot, volatile vapour into a cold fury that settled in his gut.

"I'll avenge you, Dad," said Harry. "I promise."

* * *

Harry spent the following days poring over the dossier. Occasionally Ginny or Ron would join him, but Harry spent a good deal of the following few days alone with his father's records. He didn't feel depressed, so much as he felt that he needed to be alone. His family gave him that time, and by Wednesday he had read every word.

James Potter, apparently, had been quite the impressive fighter. According to Mr. Weasley, the average channelling capacity was more like 25 Mansels over 30 to 40 seconds, but raw power wasn't the only edge his father had. The overseers had noted his ability to deflect curses with reliability and even accuracy at times, redirecting incoming spells at other opponents. But he had also boasted great casting accuracy, and an uncanny ability to aim while flying.

His father cocked his head at Harry from within the photo.

"Your parents were both symbols for the resistance," Madam Pomfrey said. "Three times He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked them personally, and three times they... well, they escaped at the very least. It was one of the most terrifying things about him, Harry. Nobody could really stop him. Even Albus Dumbledore himself never truly defeated him."

"Why didn't he use his shield that night?" Harry asked. "The records say he used a silver shield, his family shield, to deflect Killing Curses. Why didn't he have it with him?"

"That shield was almost legendary," the nurse smiled. "Most inanimate objects are destroyed when the Killing Curse hit them, but that thing was about ten stone worth of goblin-made, wizard-enchanted silver. Probably had Featherweight Charms on it for him to swing it around the way he did, but there were none others like it. I don't know why he didn't use it that night, Harry. But you should have been safe at Godric's Hollow for all eternity, and I expect that he believed that."

"If we weren't betrayed," Harry muttered.

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey. "But he's been punished, Harry."

Harry nodded, trying to keep his mind from that dark place.

"Come, let us remember your father's strength, not his death. What else does the record have to say?"

* * *

"I imagine you'll want more recent history today," Mrs Weasley said.

Harry blushed. He hadn't been spending all his time looking over Susan's gift, but he had to admit he'd been locked up in Ron's room almost as much as Percy had been in his.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed dear," Mrs Weasley smiled. "I would have been surprised if you were much less interested. Now I must admit that I wasn't very close to either of them. I mean I'm about ten years older. Married by the time they started at Hogwarts..."

Harry was just trying to compile a response when she recovered herself.

"Anyway, yes, they were very pleasant people. James was charming as you like, made me feel like a teenager again whenever he talked to me. And Lily was just the most generous soul... The only thing that kept her from Healer training was brewing healing potions for St. Mungo's or for the Aurors, and the only thing that kept her from that was going out herself to help the wounded, and the only thing that kept her from that was backing up her husband on missions. The woman took no time for herself, Harry, and neither did James until you arrived."

Harry was surprised to find his eyes watery. The passion in Mrs Weasley's voice...

"She was an example to all of us," Mrs Weasley sniffed. "Just a young girl, Harry. She and James were an army unto themselves. Three times, You-Know-Who tried to kill them personally, and it took a fourth for him to beat them."

"A blood traitor and a Muggleborn," Harry grinned.

Mrs Weasley smiled with him. "It was your parents and the Longbottoms. Heroes. Professor Dumbledore was the one You-Know-Who was supposed to be afraid of, but he's Professor Dumbledore. James and Lily, and Frank and Alice, they were ordinary people. Exceptional sorcerers, but people had gone to school with them, Harry. And they were proof that You-Know-Who didn't have to win."

"Where are Neville's parents?" Harry asked.

"Gone," Mrs Weasley shuddered. "We lost them, Harry."

Harry grimaced. That at least explained why Neville never mentioned them.

"But back to your parents," Mrs Weasley sighed. "If I ever heard one thing about your father, Harry, it's that he was trouble."

"I'm sorry?" said Harry.

An amused smile removed all traces of her prior grief. "He and his friends were the most infamous of trouble makers at school. They even had a name for their little band, though the name... I think it began with an 'm'. Either way, they caused utter havoc. They say that your father and his friends were the only people Peeves paid any attention to."

Peeves. The school poltergeist. Mr. Filch's mortal enemy, and public enemy number one. A creature whose only purpose in life was to derive maximum pleasure from really messing up other people's days. While he showed a modicum of respect towards the professors, Harry knew that the only person he actually listened to was the Slytherin House Ghost, the Bloody Baron, who apparently terrified Peeves.

"Your mother, on the other hand," Mrs Weasley smiled, "got almost universal praise. The others, my dear, were jealous. Both she and your father were good at almost everything they did. Head Boy and Girl. And your mother's academic record was spotless. My, how people raved about her charmwork."

Mr. Weasley soon joined them. They talked into the night of the Potters' more well-known accomplishments and a few war stories. While neither of them had a wealth of personal information, Harry appreciated it more than he could say.

Of course, Mrs Weasley chased them both to bed soon enough. Harry ended up needing his sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up on the eleventh of August feeling no small measure of trepidation. Looking around and listening carefully, he sighed with relief when he realised that there were no explosions.

"I'm eleven!" Ginny's voice cried, muffled, from her room four floors down.

Harry buried his exasperated grin in his pillow. Maybe not. It had started the day before.

 _Harry woke up on the tenth of August to the sound of a faint, infrequent popping. For a moment he wasn't sure what it was. Then, as he sat up in bed, he saw a massively wound up Ginny appear by the door._

 _"Hey," he whispered._

 _"Eee," she replied, her fists clenched up by her shoulders._

 _"Report, oh-seven-thirty-six," said Harry. "Target seems to have remained in control of her bladder, but it may be any second now."_

 _"You!"_

 _"Seriously, Ginny, it's tomorrow," Harry smirked. "Calm down."_

 _"Calm down?" She Apparated over to him. "I'm going to be eleven, Harry! That's like, the second most important birthday ever!"_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Why. When you're eleven you go to school!"_

 _"You already go to school," Harry grinned, bewildered._

 _"Yeeaaahhh..." Ginny said. "But this is the proper birthday that I've been waiting for forever."_

She'd been impossible the entire day, Disapparating randomly and falling out of chairs. At least it was amusing. But now it was the day itself, and Harry worried whether she could get any more excited and not start burning the house down.

"Okay, thanks for letting us know!" Fred or George called back.

Harry let out a soft sigh, but he couldn't help grinning.

"Go back to sleep!" said Percy.

"Ouuuooouuu!" said the ghoul in the attic.

"Ginny dear, did you really have to..." Mrs Weasley sighed.

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny said, much clearer this time. She must have taken to Apparating again. "But I'm eleven!"

Harry heard Mr. Weasley chuckling, even when his wife hushed him. There was a faint pop and a knock on the door. Ron snorted in his sleep.

"Yeah," said Harry.

Ginny Apparated right through. "Eleven."

Sliding out of bed and dashing over, Harry grabbed her around the waist before she could move again.

"Happy birthday," said Harry. And he kissed her, tenderly, savouring the softness of her cheek under his fingers. Ginny smiled up at him beatifically.

There was a retching noise behind him, and they turned to see Ron pretending to heave up his dinner. Smirking at Harry, she pinned him to the door and kissed him rather thoroughly.

"Oh, Merlin," Ron groaned, hiding his head under his pillow.

"So," Ginny grinned, pulling away. "What am I getting today?"

"Birthday presents, I'd assume," said Harry.

Ginny made a face at him and disappeared.

Harry turned to a hesitantly resurfacing Ron. "Yeah, I think 'oh Merlin' covers it."

By the time everyone was sitting at the breakfast table, Ginny was literally on fire, much to Mrs Weasley's alarm. Mr. Weasley took to regularly applying Flame Freezing Charms to keep her from setting the table ablaze. Bill and the twins were just laughing themselves silly.

"Would you like to use the bathroom, Ginny?" Percy asked as she pulsed with light.

The flames died in an instant, and Ginny planted her face straight into her beans on toast.

"Err..." Harry said, looking on helplessly.

"How long until the guests start arriving?" said Bill.

"Far, far too long," said Mr. Weasley.

Ginny did at least calm down after that, and they finished their breakfast in peace. Heading up to her room, Harry and Ginny grinned at each other, Ginny's being markedly more sheepish.

"It's a big deal, okay?" she huffed.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "How's the summer project going?"

"Which one?" said Ginny. "I've been reading up on wards... talking to Bill about a ward to clean the river, but it looks really complicated."

"We'll figure it out in Ancient Runes," Harry shrugged.

Ginny scrunched up her nose in distaste. "That's at least a year off!"

"Patience, you must have, hmm?" Harry said, poking at her nose.

Ginny's whole face scrunched up and she shied away, grinning.

"You're so cute," Harry smiled.

Ginny stared insolently up at him even as she began to blush.

"What about the school one?" Harry asked.

"Pfff..." Ginny grinned. The grin faded. "No."

"Whaaaat?" said Harry. "There's something you _can't_ do?"

"Shut up, Harry," Ginny laughed, shoving at his shoulder. "I can make something float from one place to another, but not just disappear and reappear..."

"Well, what have you tried?" said Harry.

Ginny sighed and dropped onto her bed. "I tried focusing on how much I wanted it to be in the other place, y'know, like when I Apparate, but that just sort of works like a Summoning Charm."

Harry sat with her, talking through the various methods she'd tried until finally...

"Ugh! I give up!" Ginny said, throwing her hand up in disgust. "I'll just ask Dad about the wand movements, maybe if I twiddle my fingers the right way..."

Harry snorted and wrapped his arms around Ginny, who was still staring furiously at her wiggling digits. "That's not like you, come on."

"Have you got any ideas?" she sighed.

"Err..."

Harry wracked his brain, turning over all the surface thoughts she was throwing his way. What did all her methods have in common? Wanting it to be in another place, wanting it to disappear and reappear, wanting it to move infinitely fast...

"You're trying to move it," Harry muttered.

Ginny, being in contact with him, had already seen where his thought process was going. "You genius, Harry!"

Harry blushed. "Wouldn't go that far, I mean..."

Ginny wasn't paying him any mind though. Staring with burning intent, Ginny reached out to a jumper that had been casually draped over her chair.

The issue, Harry thought, had been Ginny's desire to make the object move. If all she wanted was for the object itself to move, to be in a different place, the object would move, but not teleport. What Harry had suggested was to change the space around it instead.

As he watched, the air around the jumper began to distort. Ginny was grinning tersely. Eyes aglow with power, red aether burned around Ginny as she cast the spell, gasping as the enchantment set.

"You okay?" Harry said, reaching out to her.

Ginny only smirked at him. "Activate."

With a muted flash, the jumper vanished.

"Yeah!" Harry cheered, pumping his fist into the air.

Ginny's reaction was more exuberant. Harry grunted as she bowled him over, knocking the wind clean out of him.

"Ungh," Harry grunted under thirty kilogrammes of ecstatic Ginny. "Help."

* * *

When Luna arrived wearing Ginny's jumper, Ginny kissed Harry as though the world was about to end, leaving him to stagger dazedly while she went to hug her friend. Luckily, Neville was there to laugh at him, as were Parvati and Lavender.

"I decided it must be important," said Luna.

Ginny was like a firecracker contained within a human shell. "It was a Portkey!"

"You did it!" Neville grinned, as Hermione arrived. "Congratulations."

"What did I miss?" said Hermione, contrite.

"I can't really demonstrate because the wards won't let me," Ginny said.

"At least we haven't gotten a letter from the Ministry," Bill grinned.

Ginny turned a smirk on her roommates. "I made that jumper into a Portkey."

Their eyes went wide, and Fay and Rionach arrived to see Lavender and Parvati each clutching one of Ginny's arms, bombarding her with questions.

"And how are you even allowed to do magic over the holidays?" Lavender pouted.

By the time Susan, Su and Padma arrived, Harry was left wondering why on Earth Ginny had been so upset last week about only being allowed twelve guests. It seemed she'd been set on inviting their whole year group. Ginny was popular, without a doubt, but twelve people plus him and her brothers seemed like plenty.

On the topic of her guest list, Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Dean and Seamus were only there because Tracey and Daphne wouldn't be able to come. If word got out that they were friendly with a Weasley, life would get pretty difficult for them in Slytherin, and that wasn't counting what issues their families might take.

Gritting his teeth, Harry grinned at one of Seamus's endless supply of crass jokes. He didn't know the Slytherin girls all that well, or the less thug-like boys, Nott and Zabini, and the reason why was an incredibly irritating inconvenience. But it wasn't fair that Ginny should have to keep her friendships secret. She wasn't something dirty to be hidden away...

Harry felt his increasingly vexed train of thought break down as soft lips brushed against his cheek.

"Hey," Ginny grinned.

"Hey yourself," said Harry.

"You're right," she shrugged. "But it's not so bad. It's kind of fun, really."

Harry was about to express his disbelief when she grabbed his hand, and Harry felt the truth to her words. She grinned at him.

 _ **'Really, it's fine,'**_ she said. _**'Promise.'**_

 ** _'I'll fix it,'_** said Harry. _**'I don't know how, but I will.'**_

 ** _'I know,'_** Ginny smirked.

Ginny's birthday went by, for the most part, in similar fashion to Harry's. There was a bit more girlish squealing, and more pink in the decorations, but apart from that it was quite a familiar affair. And when it came time to give Ginny her presents, Harry felt the exact same terrifying awkwardness as when he'd been receiving them. If anything it was worse, because while his fear and discomfort had given way to glee and enthusiasm as he'd received gift after gift, now his terror only built as he worried whether his present was good enough. Or their gift, rather. And therein lay the problem. Was she expecting him to get her something special, as her boyfriend?

"Well, midget," said Fred.

"You're in for a treat with this one," said George.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at them in suspicion. Harry had barely even noticed the other gifts being given.

"It's a communal gift," said Percy.

"From all of us," said Ron.

"And Charlie," Bill added.

"And me," said Harry.

"Ginny, you have a gift," said Percy.

Bill grinned. "We only want to see you make the most of it."

"Everyone knows a wand works best," said George.

"... for a sorcerer it chose," finished Fred.

"We want you to have that opportunity," said Percy.

Ginny was staring at them, her eyes so wide as to threaten popping out of her head. "Unk?"

Fay snorted quietly.

"When we all visit Diagon Alley for the school shopping trip," said Percy, "you will be going to Ollivander's. There, a wand will choose you. And then, you will pay for that wand with this money, and it will accompany you, hopefully, for the rest of your days."

A lonely little tear rolled down Ginny's cheek as she stared at each of them in turn. Then, with nary a sound from her, she began phasing rapidly in and out of being, hugging each of them tightly enough to fracture ribs before teleporting to her next target.

"You go get 'em, Firefly," Bill smiled.


	25. 25 - Chosen

The day of Bill's departure was a tearful one. At least, Ginny and their mother seemed more than reluctant to let him run off back to Egypt.

"When am I going to see you again?" Ginny had sobbed, clinging to him as he tried to get through the front door.

Bill sighed, wrapping her in about the four hundredth embrace of the morning. "I don't know, Firefly. But we'll keep writing each other, okay?"

Ginny sniffed. "Okay..."

Bill had turned to go when a wind began to rise. The door swung fully open, and Bill's robe billowed out behind him. He gave Ginny a tired smile, realising as Harry had that Ginny was losing her grip on her magic. So Harry offered her a grip on his hand.

When Ginny turned her reddened eyes on him, Harry felt something twinge inside. But he also felt the hurricane of emotions within her slowly abating. When they finally broke eye contact, Bill was gone.

Mrs Weasley was quietly sniffling into her husband's shoulder. That was when her attitude towards Bill, and his reactions, began to add up in Harry's head. She had fussed over him so much because he was the first to fly the nest. Bill was an old wound that had never quite healed, for Mrs Weasley couldn't deal with the fact that he didn't need her anymore.

Harry had mulled this over for a while, wondering how things would be between himself and Mrs Weasley as he grew older. Perhaps she would get used to the idea as more of her children grew up. Somehow, Harry doubted it.

Now, as they prepared to Floo travel to Diagon Alley the following day, Harry found himself staring at Ginny. It was hardly the first time. Today, however, he was not thinking about her laughter or the touch of her lips, but of how they might be in ten years' time. Ginny loved the Burrow. She loved the trees and the hills and the river. She loved her family most of all, but Harry knew that she would never be tied down. And wherever she went, he too would go.

"Diagon Alley."

Mr. Weasley disappeared in a flash of green flame.

Harry stepped forward, throwing down his own pinch of Floo powder. "Diagon Alley!"

Floo travel wasn't as bad as taking a Portkey, Harry admitted to himself as he hurtled through the inferno. He desperately held his body in a mummy-like posture, for fear of an elbow catching on one of the countless fireplaces rushing past and being torn right off. At least there were no ghosts in the Floo network.

His face hit the Leaky Cauldron's hearth rug with a muffled thud, and Harry suddenly remembered that the Floo was a million times worse than Portkeys.

Standing with a grunt, Harry heard the sound of Hermione giggling at him, which added a further dent to his pride. "Yeah, yeah, I still remember how slick you were on a broomstick."

Hermione huffed and turned away, a hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. It appeared that her memory was just as good. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed not to have been clued in to this particular part of her daughter's school life, as her eyes veritably lit up.

Of course, when Ginny came through next she landed with all the grace of a ballet dancer. She only gave him a modest shrug and a smirk. She first gave Hermione an exuberant hug, then walked up to Harry and brushed the ash off his face, hair and clothes.

"Next time I am definitely going first," she grinned.

"So you can point and laugh too?"

Ginny pouted at him. "So I can catch you, like a good, caring girlfriend."

Harry continued to stare at her.

"There may be some laughing involved," Ginny admitted with a sigh. "You just _have_ to look for the worst, Harry. Ach! Stop it! Eek!"

Harry continued to tickle her until Mr. Weasley quietly told them to stop making a disturbance. They seemed to be in a side-room of the wizard pub. Harry could just make out the bar through the doorway, where old Tom was still there in the same clothes Harry remembered from his last visit to the alley with Hagrid. Encircled in Harry's arms, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

' _ **I'm so going to get you,'**_ Ginny smirked, panting slightly.

' _ **When I least expect it?'**_ said Harry.

Ginny didn't bother replying, only pulling him down with a firm tug on his hair and kissing him soundly.

' _ **Fair enough,'**_ Harry shrugged, smiling to himself.

"Hey everyone," said Neville.

"Hi Nev," Ron grinned, lightly dusted with ash from his own landing. While he was not nearly as graceful as Ginny, Harry regarded Ron's ability to stay relatively upright with some envy.

"Looks like we've got the team back together," said Fred.

"They'll be quaking in their boots down in Knockturn," George agreed.

"For the umpteenth time, boys, you are not going to Knockturn Alley," Mrs Weasley sighed, landing cleanly on two feet. She didn't so much as wobble.

Reading into his mood, Ginny giggled at him. "Lots and lots of practise..."

"Is your grandmother here, Neville?" said Mr. Weasley.

"No, she said I could Floo straight here so long as I stayed with everyone," said Neville.

Harry noted the excitement in his eyes, the slight quiver in his voice and the tension in his hands. This was his first time out without family.

"Alistair's at the bar, making a fool of himself," Mrs Granger said fondly. "Jumped at the opportunity to see some more magic."

Mrs Weasley gave her own husband a shifty little smile, which he pointedly ignored. "I see... Well, now that we're all here, shall we?"

"Not all," Ginny muttered, smiling mischievously.

"What have you done?" said Harry.

"You don't think I was going to get my wand without my best friend there, did you?" Ginny said, eyebrow raised.

"I will be there," Harry grinned.

"Oh Harry, you're a lot more than a best friend," Ginny smirked.

"Hermione?" said Harry, as they were shepherded out into the pub.

"Okay, _other_ best friend," Ginny amended.

"The army is here."

Harry looked up to find Luna Lovegood standing in the doorway to the alley. Her father was just behind her, beaming at them all.

From her exuberance, you would have thought Ginny had been separated from Luna for weeks rather than days. Luna, on the other hand, maintained her usual expression, like she had just seen a mildly interesting cloud or shadow, even when Ginny glomped her.

"Good morning, Xeno," Mr. Weasley smiled.

Mr. Lovegood shook Mr. Weasley's hand quite thoroughly. "And to you my good man."

"What army?" said Neville quietly.

Ron snorted. "Probably an army of gibbering bobbers."

Ginny was practically bouncing as they made their way down the alley, but their parents wouldn't hear of her pleas to go straight to the wand shop. Their first port of call was Gringotts bank.

Mr. Weasley went in alone to withdraw funds for the shopping trip, leaving them outside to contend with a near-salivating Ginny, and a rather excited pair in Hermione and Mrs Weasley. The source of their excitement had drawn a long line of middle-aged women that stretched outside and beyond Flourish and Blotts down to Quality Quidditch Supplies. A man called Gilderoy Lockhart was doing book signings from 12:30 to 16:30, as proclaimed by an enormous banner over the shop's upper floors. According to Hermione, this was interesting because the man had written half the books on their Hogwarts list of required texts for the coming year. If you asked Mrs Weasley, he was a renowned hero of the wizard world who had achieved a great many impressive accomplishments at a young age. Fred and George had just disgustedly pointed at the copy of Witch Weekly Mrs Weasley had been reading at the time. On the front cover was a blond man grinning and winking as the headline declared him the winner of its Most Charming Smile Award for the fifth year running. Looking at the nature of the crowd, and Mrs Weasley and Hermione's flushed faces, Harry had to agree with the twins.

"I take it this Lockhart fellow's a looker, then?" Mrs Granger smirked.

"I - I'm sorry?" Mrs Weasley said.

Mr. Granger coughed delicately, and Hermione turned a deeper shade of pink.

"I don't see any men in that line," Hermione's mother continued in a conspiratorial whisper.

Ginny grinned at Harry, watching her mother flounder. Luna's dad was taking great interest in a cloud, though Harry couldn't be sure whether it was put on or not considering his experience with the man and his daughter.

"Well, he... That is to say..."

Mrs Weasley was saved by her husband arriving with the money, at which point she ensured they all hurried along to get their supplies.

Percy headed off, rather reluctantly, with the twins. Ginny grabbed Hermione and Luna and headed off somewhere else while the parents managed to stick together in their own group, to Mrs Granger's delight and Mrs Weasley's despair. Harry, Ron and Neville headed straight for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where Harry got them all strawberry and peanut butter ice creams. Meanwhile, the queue at the bookshop was only getting longer.

"I don't get it," Ron said. "He looks like a right bloody tosser."

Harry and Neville sniggered appreciatively.

"Seriously, he barely even looks like a bloke!" Ron laughed. "Bet he could give Lavender lessons on makeup."

By the time they finished their ice creams, the girls arrived, dumping a bag each on their table and dumping themselves into the remaining chairs.

"Trust you not to have done anything yet," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Neville said he was hungry," said Ron.

"Hey, this was your idea!" Neville gaped.

"Come on Ron, let's go find some new robes," said Ginny.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't need new robes."

"You going to tell Mum that?" Ginny said with a raised eyebrow.

"Ugh, fine," Ron muttered.

With that, they headed off to find their mother and presumably a second hand clothing store, while the rest of them looked to Madam Malkin's. Harry sincerely hoped he wouldn't run into Malfoy again in the place.

Luckily, they only found a couple of older students being fitted in the schoolwear section. Harry turned to one of the assistants taking the students' measurements. "Excuse me, sorry, I was wondering if any schools other than Hogwarts came here for uniforms?"

The girl frowned slightly. "Um... I don't think so. City of London let us get our own robes as long as they were dark grey or black."

"I think the other ones would be outside London if they had a deal with a store," the other girl shrugged. "The Queen Maeve Institute sure as hell won't have links in England."

That was when the first girl put two and two together and looked to Harry's forehead. She opened her mouth to say something, but at Harry's sigh she blushed and shut it again.

"You're finished," the second girl said brightly to the boy she had been taking measurements of.

"But I'm too young to die!" the Ravenclaw exclaimed.

"Go on, before you get jinxed," his friend laughed.

"Who's first then?" the girl smiled.

After Madam Malkin's, Harry, Ron and Ginny tried to get a look in at Quality Quidditch Supplies, but the queue for Lockhart's book signing was becoming more of a throng, and they allowed themselves to be dragged on by. They next visited the quill shop to humour Hermione. She spent the better part of ten minutes puttering about while the rest of them stood in a corner talking. Or rather, four of them were talking and laughing. Luna just looked at them all curiously.

In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they found Fred and George stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, while Percy stood off to the side with a book called The Trials of Wizarding Government.

Ron made a face at the book. "How'd you find something like that in here?"

"I looked in my pocket," said Percy. "I hope some of you plan to spend your allowance on something sensible."

"Oi, you know George doesn't like that word!" said George.

Harry soon found himself perusing the shelves in search of something special for his favourite Slytherin. Nothing quite took his fancy though. He supposed that with Draco Malfoy, he rather enjoyed the personal touch.

When everyone finally regrouped for the Flourish and Blotts episode of their trip, the queue outside the bookstore was frankly rather ridiculous. The shopkeeper or assistant, Harry couldn't remember, was standing at the door looking rather harried as he tried to keep order. They joined the parents in the line, squeezing stealthily through the door, and found that the entire ground floor had been taken over by middle aged witches.

By this point, Mr. Weasley had a rather resigned look on his face. Mr. Granger suggested that the fathers present head back up to the pub for a pint, and Mr. Weasley looked to be considering the idea. However, just then, they reached a point in the queue where they could see the man himself, sitting at a table signing away and surrounded by large pictures of himself, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. He said something to the woman he was signing his autobiography for with a winning sort of smile, and Harry could have sworn she almost swooned. Ginny just rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, looked even more flustered than before and kept patting her hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet!"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron. Then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

"Bollocks," Harry muttered.

Ginny stifled a giggle.

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side. Harry's 'friends', of course, were laughing themselves silly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge..."

The crowd applauded again. Harry was considering how much trouble he'd get into for stamping on the man's foot.

"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Grimacing slightly at the strain on his forearms, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

"You have these," Harry sighed, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own."

"Yeah?" Ginny smirked. "And-"

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing.

He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.

"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"So?" Harry said, frowning in confusion. Sure it was embarrassing, but it didn't quite have the sting of Malfoy's usual barbs.

"Don't tell me that's the best you could come up with in two months, Malfoy," said Ginny. "The Sorting Hat must be going senile to have thought that _you_ have any cunning."

"I was attempting to be sociable you little harlot," Malfoy said. Harry was about ready to take his sneering head off, but for some reason Ginny seemed perfectly calm. "Though it appears your depravities have left you quite incapable."

Arriving with a lot of bustle and noise, Ron, Hermione and Neville blinked at the sight of Malfoy. Luna did so as well, though she'd seemed to float over more than anything else.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as his hair. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Neville and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Ah, but I-" Malfoy began with a triumphant smirk.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well. Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed with palpable rage.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to the Grangers, who were watching apprehensively, and Mr. Lovegood, who was examining a display. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads.

There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George.

Mrs Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"

The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over.

"Gentlemen, please... please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all...

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up..."

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart.

Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopaedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl, take your book. It's the best your father can give you."

Ginny glared back, and Harry wondered for a moment if she was going to clobber him around the head with it. Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, Mr. Malfoy beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy's worth listenin' ter – bad blood, that's what it is. Come on now, let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers wide-eyed with fright and Mrs Weasley beside herself with fury.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought –"

Ginny, for her part, seemed to get even more annoyed. ' _ **Doesn't she care what that arsehole was saying? Who cares what the prick thought?'**_

Harry thought it best not to reply.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report, said it was all publicity."

"Here, Hagrid," said Harry. "What are you doing in Diagon Alley?"

"Keepin' the peace, 'pparently," said Hagrid. "Was lookin' fer some flesh-eatin' slug repellent, actually. They're ruinin' the school cabbages."

"Why would a flesh-eating slug be eating cabbages?" Harry wondered aloud.

"It's ah..." Hagrid said quietly, his lips twitching. "It's not what goes in tha's the problem 'ere, 'Arry."

Ginny snorted with laughter.

"Anyway, thank you for your help, Hagrid," said Mrs Weasley, as they reached Ollivanders.

"Anytime, Molly," said Hagrid. "Jus' glad I was around. I'll see you lot at 'Ogwarts then."

They said their goodbyes to Hagrid, and he strode off away down the street, the crowds parting hurriedly to allow his massive frame through.

Ollivanders Wand Shop was exactly the same as Harry remembered it from his first visit. It lacked the impact of the other stores, without the impressive size of Flourish and Blotts, the colour and noise of Gambol and Japes, or the bright elegance of Madam Malkin's. The golden lettering above the storefront looked to have peeled further since the last time Harry was here. Perhaps Mr. Ollivander didn't have time to fix it. He certainly didn't seem to have anyone else working in the shop.

Now that Harry thought about it, the store name suggested a family company. Mr. Ollivander was an old man... Who took over when he was done?

Lost in his wondering, Harry hadn't noticed that they were now in the shop, and jumped when Mr. Ollivander appeared, just the same as his first encounter with the man.

"Ginevra Weasley..." he said. "Tales of your exploits have reached even my ears."

Ginny turned bright red.

"And you too have your mother's eyes," Ollivander went on, smiling slightly at Mrs Weasley, who gave him a warm smile in return.

"It has been a long time, Mr. Ollivander," said Mrs Weasley.

Mr. Granger was staring around at the packed shelves like a little boy in a sweetshop, while his wife and daughter stifled giggles.

"Thirty-one years, almost to the day," said Mr. Ollivander. "I never forget a wand I've sold, Molly Prewett. Ten inches of ash, pliable, and a most devoted wand. A unicorn tail hair from a most beautiful young mare, one of the sweetest specimens I ever encountered. She gave me nearly twenty hairs that day."

"It's served me well," Mrs Weasley said.

"Indeed," said Mr. Ollivander. It was clear he expected no different.

Harry could feel the ambient magic of the place making his hair stand on end. It was a funny thing, since Hogwarts was supposed to be incredibly intense in terms of its magical field, and nothing like this ever happened there... Perhaps it was all the wands. They were supposed to focus magic, after all.

"Now young lady, which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander said, pulling the same silvered tape measure out of his pocket that Harry remembered from his own visit.

"My right, sir," Ginny replied courteously.

"Just hold out your arm for me, that's right..."

The tape measure then began flittering around Ginny by itself, while Mr. Ollivander started taking down wands from the shelves.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Weasley. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand.

"That will do," said Mr. Ollivander, and the tape measure collapsed. "Now... Try this one, Miss Weasley. Willow and phoenix feather, ten and a quarter inches, nice and springy."

Ginny half-summoned the wand from Mr. Ollivander's hand as she reached for it. The old man's eyes almost lit up, but he said nothing of it. Ginny had just begun to twirl it when he took it back.

"No, no. Apple and unicorn hair, eleven inches, flexible."

As with Harry's own choosing, Ginny seemed to try half the wands in the shop. To be fair to Mr. Ollivander, there must have been a few thousand wands just on shelves on the shop floor, but about ten minutes later Harry was sure there were about a hundred boxes piled high upon the spindly chair, abandoned. And just like when Harry had gotten his wand, this seemed to please the wandmaker no end.

"I always find a perfect match, Miss Weasley," said Mr. Ollivander, elated, as he put away an eleven inch chestnut and unicorn hair piece, which was apparently particularly 'whippy'. "Mahogany and phoenix tail feather, twelve inches. Swishy."

This wand, which was slightly more slender than most of the others, actually trembled in Ginny's hand. Ginny gave it an apologetic look.

As another ten wands joined the reject pile, Mr. Ollivander acquired a contemplative look. "Perhaps... Hmm."

He hurried into the back of the shop, leaving them to stare at each other, bewildered. The poor little chair probably hadn't suffered so much since Hagrid sat on it last year.

"An experimental piece..." Mr. Ollivander muttered as he walked back in. "Didn't believe I would find a partner... Thicker than I usually make, but still reasonably flexible. Twelve and a quarter inches of ebony, containing both a unicorn tail hair and a heartstring from a Chinese Fireball dragon, entwined together."

"Two cores," Mr. Weasley muttered.

"It was not easy," Mr. Ollivander admitted. "But try it, Miss Weasley."

When Ginny picked this wand up, the reaction was immediate. Even as her fingers slipped into the shallow, helical grooves in the grip, there was a pulse of warmth, and aether condensed out of the very air at the wand's tip. There was a sound like all the air was rushing out of the room. Slowly, Ginny began to smile, her eyes glowing like torches, until she was grinning ferally at the light storm erupting from the wand.

"Woah..." said Neville in a strangled whisper.

People had stopped outside the shop now to stare at the spectacle, which was showing no sign of ending any time soon. Ginny waved the wand delicately, and the aether faded away, along with the glow in her eyes.

"Wonderful!" Mr. Ollivander cried. "Marvelously done, Miss Weasley. My word…"

"Ah," said Mr. Weasley, noticing the large crowd outside.

The onlookers started to move on when they noted that the show was over, but they had definitely noted who was responsible. Ginny grinned at Harry, having reached the same conclusion.

Mr. Ollivander wrapped the wand up and put it in its box, taking seven galleons for the purchase, just as with Harry's. Perhaps it was a standard charge. Either way, Ginny was glowing (not literally, this time at least) with happiness as she took the box from him, an almost reverent look in her eyes.

"And Luna Lovegood," said Mr. Ollivander, turning to her. "I was very sorry to hear about your mother…"

"Thank you Mr. Ollivander," said Luna. "I do miss her quite terribly, but it's okay, really. Would you tell me about her wand?"

Mrs Weasley sniffed quietly. Ginny bit her lip, and reached out to squeeze Luna's hand.

"Of course, of course," said Mr. Ollivander. "Pandora was quite an energetic young lady, you know. When she first came in here, she badgered me endlessly about wandmaking, and when we finally found a match, she wanted to know everything about the particular components and how it might behave... Ten and a half inches, sycamore and phoenix feather, delightfully springy. It was an elegant thing, and wonderful for charmwork. I presume it…?"

"Burst into flames?" Mr. Lovegood said absently. "Yes, yes it did."

"But yours, Xenophilius, seems in perfectly good shape to me," Mr. Ollivander said softly, as if wary of the awkwardness that had pervaded the room. However, both Luna and her father were smiling.

"Yes, it has been an excellent companion, I must thank you again," said Mr. Lovegood.

Mr. Ollivander smiled gently, his pale grey eyes shining. "Not at all. It is my duty to find the right partner for each of my creations. Thirteen and a half inches, grapevine and unicorn tail hair, very swishy."

"That it is, Mr. Ollivander," said Mr. Lovegood, bowing slightly.

"And how is the Quibbler doing?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

There were a couple of suppressed sighs, but the Lovegoods either didn't notice or paid it no mind. Harry did then notice Luna drawing herself up slightly though, and considered that they were probably ignoring it.

"Very well, thank you," said Mr. Lovegood. "We just ran a very successful issue featuring an article on the Blibbering Humdinger."

Mr. Ollivander took this in stride, but the same couldn't be said of Ron. Ron only stifled his laughter through Ginny's hand over his mouth and her heel on his toes.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Mr. Ollivander. "Now Miss Lovegood, which is your wand arm?"

Luna didn't go through quite as many wands as Ginny, or even Harry had. On precisely her twenty-first try, she produced brilliant white sparks in a cascading shower. It was a rather less spectacular event than Ginny's, but Luna seemed completely content.

"A silver lime wand, interesting..." said Mr. Ollivander. "And do you know what is contained within your wand, Miss Lovegood?"

"That would be for you to tell me, Mr. Ollivander," said Luna.

"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander smiled. Harry rather felt as though there was some joke he wasn't privy to. "A ten and a half inch wand of silver lime, with a core of unicorn tail hair. May you see many great and wondrous things together."

"I am sure we will, Mr. Ollivander, thank you," said Luna, handing back the wand for packing.

Ginny was veritably buzzing about the wand as they made their way home, distracted through her farewells and almost losing her balance on her way out of the Floo. Mrs Weasley wanted to keep hold of it until school started but Ginny was having none of it.

"Please, Mum!" she whined. "I'm not going to _use_ it. I don't need to."

"Why do you want it then?" Mrs Weasley sighed, exasperated.

"I don't know," Ginny muttered. "It's my _wand_ , I just..."

Mrs Weasley huffed. "If I see you casting a single spell with this..."

"Thanks Mum!" Ginny gushed, taking the hesitantly offered wand and sprinting up to her room.

"There'll be a shrine in there by morning," Mr. Weasley sighed.

Harry took a moment to put away his new books and equipment before joining Ginny in her room. She was kneeling at her bed, wand in hand, the empty box sitting atop the duvet. Staring at the instrument, Ginny was slowly twirling it in her fingers. It was as if she wanted to commit every last detail to memory.

Deciding it probably qualified as a private moment, Harry had just turned to leave when he felt her hand on his arm.

"Please..." Ginny muttered. "Don't go."

So Harry sat next to her as she continued. It was a beautiful thing compared to his own, and Harry had always thought his wand to be a finely crafted piece. Ginny's had runes etched along its length in spiral pattern, with what looked like gold inlays. As Ginny turned the wand, the gold shone with a light that was not coming from the window.

"I never heard of a wand with two cores before..." Ginny whispered.

Harry almost asked why she was whispering, but thought better of it. "It's very beautiful," he whispered back.

Ginny nodded. "All these runes must be to keep it stable or something."

"Try not to accidentally kill anyone this year," said Harry.

"What?" Ginny hissed.

"You were more powerful than most last year," Harry shrugged. "With a wand..."

Ginny stared at him. Then she stared at the wand. Slowly, carefully, she eased it back into its case.

"I've got a bad feeling about this Lockhart guy," said Harry.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny offered him a grin. "Tell me about it. I never thought anyone took him seriously at all, I mean there's a bunch of inconsistencies in his books so that he'd have to be in two places at once..."

"But he does have an Order of Merlin and a Dark Force Defence Club membership," Harry recalled from the back of his 'textbooks'. They seemed more like novels.

"Defence League," Ginny corrected. "And that doesn't mean anything. I mean, they don't go out and hunt Dark Wizards or anything. As far as I know they just have tea and swap war stories."

Harry smirked. "Maybe we should start our own club."

"I think we already have," said Ginny, smiling wistfully. "Anyway, a third class Order of Merlin award doesn't mean anything. Real war heroes like your parents get first class usually."

That got a pleased little grin out of Harry, who started twiddling his thumbs absently.

"People who contribute to society or our understanding of magic get second class. The third class..." Ginny rolled her eyes. "They probably gave it to him so all the besotted women wouldn't start a riot."

"He does have quite a few fans," said Harry.

"So what?" Ginny huffed. "Plenty of absolute pricks were popular."

"Okay come on," Harry sighed. "What's he done to piss you off?"

Ginny growled slightly. It was rather cute, really, but Harry didn't think it wise to tell her that. "Why is Mum so bloody fascinated by him?"

Harry had noticed the name of Gilderoy Lockhart dropped once or twice in the whole time he'd been with the Weasleys. The whole time up until they'd received their Hogwarts letters, at least. The moment Mrs Weasley had seen their booklist it was like a dam had broken. Everything was Lockhart this and Lockhart that. Harry was really just surprised that Malfoy was the man that Mr. Weasley had chosen to sock in the jaw. Looking over at Ginny's beautiful face, twisted in anger and consternation, Harry wasn't sure how he'd react if she started going on about some other guy.

"I mean, I wouldn't care... didn't care... until..." Ginny took a breath. "You heard that prissy blonde prick running his mouth off. Any day of the week Mum would've given him a piece of her mind, but no, it's all 'oh but what did Lockhart think', and 'oh but Lockhart is the best thing since Scourgify'."

"Don't demean Cleaning Charms like that," said Harry.

Ginny's mouth twitched.

"Anyway, I'm not exactly the person to ask, am I?" Harry grinned.

"Hermione's apparently lost the plot as well, and as far as Lockhart's concerned Luna doesn't give a flying turd," Ginny counted off on her fingers.

Harry snorted with laughter. "I didn't know they were a thing people usually gave. Do you want me to give you a..."

"Oh go suck on a flobberworm," Ginny muttered, trying to hide a smirk. "Seriously though, look at Dad. He has a good job, I mean he's head of a Ministry of Magic office. A small one, but it's still not bad for a family that everyone in the whole fucking country looks down on just because we don't treat muggles and muggleborns like dirt."

"Hey," Harry murmured, pulling Ginny, unresisting, into his arms. He wasn't quite sure what else to say.

"And we'd be well off if they hadn't had seven kids," Ginny sniffed angrily. Orange plasma flickered through her hair like a fiery aurora. "So Dad works his butt off every day of the week, night and day, so that he can send us all to Hogwarts and still put food on the table. He's more of a hero than Lockhart will ever be."

"I'm sure Mum knows that," said Harry.

"So why's she fawning over the bastard?" Ginny sighed.

Harry held her as the rage subsided, before pushing her out to arm's length and smiling softly. "I know what'll cheer you up."

"We're going to make a Lockhart doll and rip its limbs out?" said Ginny.

Harry squinted at her. "No... Do I need to keep an eye on you?"

"Harry..." said Ginny, finally seeming to return to her normal self, "you should always keep an eye on me."

"Anyway, let's look through our new books," said Harry.

Ginny sniggered lightly. "I'm not Hermione."

Harry gave her a look.

"I am not!" Ginny said indignantly. "Thought you figured that out at her place."

"Oh shut up," Harry muttered.

Laughing uproariously, Ginny pulled out her new textbooks, only for a small, nondescript black book to fall to the floor.

"That's not on the booklist," said Harry.

"I... didn't buy this," Ginny frowned, turning it over in her hands. "There's something on the back. Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers, Vauxhall Road, London."

"A book from a muggle store in Diagon alley?" said Harry. "You think someone dropped it by accident or something?"

"Doubt it," Ginny muttered. "It said 1939 on the front. I wonder what it is..."

"Y- yeah..." said Harry.

Ginny moved to open the book. "We probably shouldn't. It could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Harry snorted. "It's a book."

"You... Yeah," said Ginny.

"Go on, what does it say?" said Harry.

"T. M. Riddle..." Ginny said slowly. "The ink's really smudged. It's... I think it's a diary, but it's completely empty."

"That's weird..." said Harry. And then he realised that it wasn't weird at all. "Maybe he just decided he didn't want it. We could use it, couldn't we?"

"A secret record of everything we get up to," Ginny smirked. "Well... Maybe not everything."

Harry turned bright red. "Yeah."

"Hmm," Ginny said, taking the diary over to her desk and inking a quill. "August 12th, 1992. Bill left today. He was only here for two weeks, and that's the first time I saw him in three years. I miss him already."

Harry squeezed onto the chair next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She snuggled contentedly into him, but suddenly froze. It wasn't hard to see why. The ink Ginny had just put to parchment was being absorbed straight in, leaving behind nothing but a blank page.

"Maybe that's why they left it," said Harry. "There's something wrong..."

But then the ink was reappearing. Rather than Ginny's sorrowful words, however, it spelled out another message entirely.

 _Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?_


	26. 26 - The Struggles of Scheduling

_A/N: Not being able to respond publicly to reviews is rather strange to me, but hey-ho. Many thanks to those who have reviewed so far, they've been quite kind :) I'll put individual replies at the ends of chapters. As a further note, a few of the coming chapters struggle with taking bits and pieces from the original CoS. That's for plot reasons, but credit is to JKR for those passages, not me._

Tom Riddle, it turned out, was an old prefect at Hogwarts from the forties. Understandably, he was rather eager to learn what had happened since his time there. Riddle wanted to hear about them too, although he was very humble when it came to talking about himself. Still, they did learn such things as that he had grown up an orphan and had thought of Hogwarts as his only real home, and that in his time Dumbledore had been professor of transfiguration, with Armando Dippet being headmaster.

It had also, of course, been the height of the second world war, and the reign of Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert Grindelwald, the last significant dark lord before Voldemort, who had stricken fear in the hearts of men, women and children across all of Europe. Gellert Grindelwald, who had masterminded a plot to have all muggles under one banner, that he might more easily make them submit. Gellert Grindelwald, who fell at the hands of Albus Dumbledore, to be imprisoned in the fortress Grindelwald himself had built to hold his enemies - Nurmengard. Riddle didn't have much to say about the dark lord, but he did mention that those were turbulent times. Many in Britain were worried that the man wasn't finished with them, and would return to conquer them with the full strength of his armies once the continent was his.

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry and Ginny found themselves spending more and more time with the diary. Riddle was just such a friendly person, and he seemed so lonely, trapped inside a book that only they knew about. And only they knew about it. It was their little secret.

* * *

"Oi, midgets, hurry up!" Fred yelled up the stairs.

Everybody was rushing around in a blind panic doing last minute packing. It seemed like Ron had only started that morning, wolfing down his breakfast with exceptional speed as he fought for every minute. Ginny had done most of her packing already, and Harry was just adding his muggle clothes to his trunk when he noticed her holding the diary, a strange look on her face. He got the oddest sensation for a moment, like someone was whispering in his head.

"I don't think we should..." said Ginny. Her jaw clenched.

"You're right," Harry said. His head was pounding... "What?"

"What?" Ginny frowned. Then she shrugged and put the diary in her trunk, locking it shut.

Harry absently closed his own and started lugging it downstairs when Mrs Weasley shooed him away and levitated it down for him. He wasn't quite content with the summer being over, even though he was eager for the new year at Hogwarts to begin. They'd certainly had a good end-of-holiday dinner the previous night. Mrs Weasley had made a particularly sumptuous meal, and they'd stayed up with mugs of hot chocolate watching Dead Poets Society. But now, with the hustle and bustle as they all prepared to shuttle off to Kings Cross... Harry didn't want to go.

As if sensing his mood, Ginny took his hand gently in hers, offering him a little smile. Harry took a little kiss, and Ginny's cheeks turned slightly pink.

His therapy sessions with Madam Pomfrey were coming to a close as well. They'd been over pretty much all of Harry's life that he could remember, and spent the longest time discussing the adventure beneath the trapdoor. And Harry hadn't had a single incident for over a month. Not so much as a headache.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time they were all gathered on the boundary of the wards, surrounded by trunks and owl cages and a Filibuster firework that had scared the living daylights out of Mrs Weasley and that the twins swore must have gone off by accident. Harry's owl cage was empty - he knew Hedwig preferred to fly on her own than to travel cooped up in the train.

A few minutes later, Mrs Weasley had finally finished giving Fred and George their dressing-down. The firework was still happily bouncing around though.

And then Fred needed to run back for his broomstick. And Ron needed to grab the GameBoy. And by the time everyone was truly ready, it was just past a quarter past ten.

"Right," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Percy?"

And with that, Mr. and Mrs Weasley began Apparating them to Kings Cross, one at a time. A few minutes later, they were all gathered outside the Apparition point on platform nine and three quarters. It was a large zone behind the buffers, monitored by a plethora of Ministry staff, whose job it was to make sure that people didn't Apparate into each other. There were also a few people standing off to the side who might have been there in case of a splinching, but luckily it seemed their services had not been required.

"Always easier when they give me time off to help," Mr. Weasley muttered. "Let's find compartments for you, then."

They made their way along the rapidly filling platform, until they found a likely-looking carriage a little ways down. Ginny hopped on lightly, turning a small smile on Harry, who followed. Only, he walked into a wall. He couldn't see the wall, but it was most definitely there. His nose and knee were insisting on it.

Ginny frowned. Reaching out tenderly, she felt the barrier, solid as steel between them. Before anyone had time to do more than make a surprised noise, Ginny drew her hand back, the entire arm going up spectacularly in bright orange flames, and delivered a staggering punch to the unexpectedly thick air. There was a sound like smashing glass, and cracks spread through the air like a spider web, glowing faintly white. Harry didn't notice, having leapt clear out of the way the moment Ginny's arm burst into flames.

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley cried indignantly.

"What on Earth?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ginny was just grinning arrogantly at the splintered barrier, her eyes aglow with magical energy. A few seconds later, the construct fell to the ground, disappearing as it did so. Percy offered Harry a hand, which Harry took gratefully, brushing himself off.

"A little more warning next time?" said Harry. "Please?"

Ginny smirked at him, but faltered at the look Mrs Weasley was giving her.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, have you no regard for your wellbeing, to say nothing of ours?" Mrs Weasley raged. "What if you had caused an explosion, hmm? Or if that thing had disappeared as suddenly as it came and you struck Harry in the face? Did you not give a moment's thought to the consequences of such a thing?"

"Sorry, Mum," said Ginny, looking forlornly at her shoes.

"Now, Ginny, you know how proud I am of you," said Mrs Weasley. "But you were tutored for good reason, and I hope you appreciate that."

"Yes Mum," said Ginny.

Mrs Weasley smiled at her daughter, who was looking a little more upbeat now. "You're an eleven year old second year, Ginny. Be spectacular by all means, but please, for the love you bear me, be safe."

Ginny didn't say anything, simply hurtling off the train to hug her mother almost as tightly as she was being hugged in return. Most of the people whose attentions had been drawn by the incident or Mrs Weasley's almost-yelling at Ginny were now drifting away. Just when Harry was sure their backs were about to give in, they began to release each other.

With that they all hurried to stow their trunks on-board, claiming a compartment for themselves, before returning for their final farewells. Harry grinned almost painfully when Mrs Weasley gave him a hug and handed him his own sandwich, which was corned beef like Percy and Ginny, while the twins and Ron got egg ones. Every little experience like this gave him a rush of emotion that was almost overwhelming.

"Hermione!" said Ginny, rushing over to give her a brief hug. The two of them were instantly locked into their own world, so after saying hello to a distracted Hermione and her parents, Harry went with Ron to look for Neville.

The platform was truly packed at this point, with about fifteen minutes left until the train was scheduled to leave. Harry had just managed to avoid tripping over a cat when Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

"Look," said Ron, pointing. "Hey Neville!"

Neville turned, and they saw Dean and Seamus standing with him. Breaking out into a huge grin, he yelled back. "Hey guys!"

"How're you doin'?" said Seamus.

Harry was about to reply when there was a distinct explosion from the direction they'd just come from. They turned as one to see that two of the windows two carriages down were flashing with bright coloured lights in time with the easily recognisable sound of a Filibuster firework.

"The twins," said Ron, groaning in spite of his obvious amusement.

A shout of "Boys!" confirmed this suspicion. Moments later, a few older students staggered off the train looking utterly shell-shocked.

"Come on, let's see what they've done," Neville sighed.

It was difficult to make out what exactly was happening through the throng of onlookers, besides the very obvious fact that Mrs Weasley was shouting a lot, but Harry figured it out soon enough. The twins were field testing their little door sentinel devices and somebody had literally walked right into it. He'd almost forgotten about the little discs that spewed fireworks when somebody tried to walk through the wrong doorway. Perhaps he could plant one in the Slytherins' bathroom. After all, he still had the one they'd given him last year...

"We're not even there yet and they've already started," said Dean.

"That's the twins for you," said Ron. "Everything is boring unless something's exploding or whatever."

* * *

Harry watched the countryside rush by. The dense mess of London had given way to towns which had given way to open green fields, by which point the twins had left to make mischief with Lee or something. Harry hadn't cared. Instead, he was relishing the feel of Ginny reclining against him, wrapped comfortably in his arms. The sound of his friends talking and laughing was like a soothing balm for his mind. Ginny's chest vibrated gently when she spoke, and she squirmed slightly whenever Harry responded by stroking absent, slow circles on her side.

He ate the corned beef sandwiches, which weren't nearly as bad as Ron seemed to think, with one hand, refusing to let go of Ginny. She smirked up at him when she noticed. The smirk gave way to indignation when Harry tickled her lightly, his fingers dancing over her ribs.

Not even Mrs Weasley's sandwiches could stop him from getting them a generous helping of sweets from the trolley when the lady came by, though.

And through all this, Luna said barely a word. She seemed perfectly content to watch and listen, a vague little smile on her face.

"So, Ginny," said Hermione, a smirk playing at her lips. "This wand..."

"Eep!" said Ginny, jumping to her feet. Harry protested mildly, but was ignored. "I totally forgot!"

Popping the lock on her trunk, she withdrew the long box that held her new toy. Ginny opened it with great care. The wand within immediately showed signs of life like none Harry had seen before, the gold gleaming with its own light.

"Very nice," said Neville.

"It is," Ginny breathed. " _Lumos_."

It started as a soft yellow glow, but within seconds Ginny was aiming a light of laser-like precision at the wall. And it was getting brighter. Seconds later, small wisps of smoke began curling upwards from the wood where the light was striking it.

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" said Ron.

And just like that, the spell was broken. Ginny let her arm drop to her side, the wand still glowing with restrained power. There was a clearly visible, albeit small scorch mark, blackened by raw throughput of energy. Hermione reached out to touch it tenderly with an index finger.

"That's incredible," Hermione whispered. "Try something else?"

"Ron, give me your wand," said Ginny.

"Alright..." Ron said suspiciously.

Holding it aloft, and with an intense fire in her eyes, Ginny cried, " _Reparo!_ "

The old wand, battered and bruised and chipped to such an extent that unicorn hair was visible at the tip, seemed to lose a decade's wear and tear in a few seconds. Wood almost grew across the surface to fill old wounds. It straightened out slightly as well, revealing a bend that Harry hadn't noticed before. Ten seconds later, it seemed that Ginny had accomplished all she could. There were still some chips in places, but it no longer looked to be on its last legs.

"Hey, thanks Ginny!" Ron grinned.

Hermione was staring. All of a sudden, she scrambled for her trunk.

In their turn, everyone else stared at her. She gave up and levitated her trunk down, and retrieved a book. **_'Because what else could Hermione ever want?'_**

Flicking through feverishly, she made a contented noise when she found what she was looking for. Moments later came a protracted 'ahhh' of realisation. And a deer-in-the-headlights look when she saw that everyone else was watching her.

"I'd read something about repairing wands," she said unnecessarily. "You can't repair a wand magically. That is to say, if the wand is damaged to the point that it doesn't work properly anymore, you can't fix that. But Ron's wand still worked so I suppose you can fix the physical wand and that's okay."

Ron shrugged at her, raising his newly-repaired wand and casting a quick Wand-Lighting Charm. The yellow glow answered him without hesitation.

"But Ginny..." said Hermione. "You didn't have the bits of his wand that had broken off..."

"Details," Ginny said airily. "The important question is..." She turned to Harry with a daring grin. "Who has the best Shock Jinx?"

"Woah woah woah," said Neville. "I'd rather we kept this train in one piece. At least until we get there."

"Oh no, I'm sure it's perfectly safe," said Harry.

Hermione snorted. "How about we all just sit down and nobody gets hurt, hmm?"

Over the following few hours until they reached Hogsmeade village, they generally followed Hermione's wishes. That might not have been the case had Malfoy shown up, but it seemed he'd learned. Either that or he'd forgotten that they were on the train. Harry had learned to not put too much stock in the Slytherin's intelligence. So they spent much of the rest of the journey playing Exploding Snap and chess, while Ginny experimented with her wand.

These experiments started to get a little out of hand after an hour or so. Until then, Ginny had been content with changing people's hair colour or Vanishing and restoring the window. Then Ron and Hermione, who'd been playing chess, looked up at each other in mounting horror.

Luna snickered softly. Neville was biting at his fist. Harry and Ginny didn't even bother to contain themselves.

Ginny had thoroughly Switched their hair.

Ron lifted his bushy brown locks with a finger, jumped backwards slightly, and turned a desperate, pleading look on his sister. Ginny, however, was too far gone to care.

"The looks on your faces!" said Ginny through breathless laughter.

Hermione huffed and folded her arms, but even her mouth was twitching.

With a little wave of her wand, Ginny finally restored their appearances, and both Ron and Hermione sighed with relief.

"Well I'm sure this will be an interesting year," said Hermione.

* * *

"What a mission I was given  
Over a millennium ere this day  
To look at all new students  
And decide where they should stay

"The Founders four once stood right here  
To do the task I fulfill in their stead  
Let me tell you of the qualities  
They bade me look for in your heads

"To Gryffindor there could never be  
A quality of greater worth  
Than stout heart, unflinching valour  
And a cast iron nerve

"Ravenclaw did not agree  
Her belief was most sincere  
That those of wisdom and intelligence  
Were better suited to study here

"Slytherin's idea of wisdom  
Was not quite the same  
He valued cunning and ambition  
And a magical family name

"To Hufflepuff this selectivity  
Was really quite inane  
So long as her students had a will to work  
She'd treat them all the same

"And thus did good old Hogwarts  
Prosper under their care  
Until Slytherin tired of their differences  
And left to alls' despair

"But now here I sit a-waiting  
Come put me on your head  
For Hogwarts still stands strong and true  
I'll Sort you where they would intend."

The Hall burst into applause as the old hat fell still.

"Hmm..." Hermione frowned.

"What is it?" said Ginny.

"Still stands strong and true?" said Hermione. "What does he mean? In spite of everything Hogwarts is still here? Is he baiting someone?"

"Us," Ginny grinned. Hermione squinted at her. "He's commending us for last year."

"Cheers Hat!" said Ron, ducking his head when nearly everyone in a ten metre radius turned to look at him.

Professor McGonagall spared Ron a withering look, somehow detecting the disturbance with her usual uncanny sharpness, before turning her attentions to the new group of students. As Harry too turned to them, he noticed that most of them were either throwing him frequent glances or flat out staring over at him.

"Wonderful," Harry sighed, slumping slightly in his seat.

"Oh give over," said Ginny.

"Yeah," said Neville. "What's a few adoring fans to You Know Who?"

"Another pain in my side I can't seem to get rid of," Harry said gloomily.

As the group was Sorted into their respective houses, the five of them sat impatiently in between bouts of raucous cheering. They found themselves waiting in equal parts for Luna to be called and for the whole thing to be over so they could fill their aching stomachs.

"Clemency Lancaster."

A determined looking girl walked rigidly up to the stool. The Hat took a moment to consider, while the girl sat with her jaw clenched and her eyes closed.

"Gryffindor!"

The lions roared their approval, clapping and stomping as a relieved first year joined their ranks.

"Luna Lovegood."

She stepped up daintily, as if she truly were as light as she appeared. Perching on the chair with the hat on her head, she had barely even sat down before the Hat yelled its decision.

"Ravenclaw!"

Ginny pouted a little, but at the contented smile Luna gave her, she burst into a happy grin. "We'll still see her just as much, I suppose. And it's what she always wanted."

"Muhammad Najdi."

Ron's stomach rumbled loudly, eliciting a giggle from his sister. "This always takes so long..."

"You've been at one Sorting before," said Hermione, exasperated.

"And it was bad enough the first time," said Ron.

"Don't worry Ron, just a few more minutes," Ginny laughed.

Harry could appreciate Ron's frustration though, for he too was starving, his stomach a gaping chasm that pulled and tore at him mercilessly. Unconsciously, Harry began to tap on his empty plate.

"Duncan Simmons."

After what seemed like an eternity, the last kid wandered down to the Hufflepuff table and Professor McGonagall carried off the stool and Hat.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, smiling genially around at them all. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I am sure that you are all as eager as I to tuck in to our start of term feast, but allow me a moment to make a couple of announcements."

"A couple's kinda pushing it," Ron groused.

Harry stifled his amusement to hear what Professor Dumbledore had to say.

"As most of you will be aware," said the headmaster, "Professor Quirrell has gone into something of an early retirement. As such, we have found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in Professor Lockhart."

That was something Harry would sooner have forgotten. The man stood up and smiled with every one of his hundred teeth.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," said Lockhart. "It gives me great pleasure to take up this post, that I might share some of my prodigious talent with the next generation. I look forward to teaching each and every one of you."

"Try not to swoon, Hermione," Ron smirked.

Hermione turned very pink, but attempted a disaffected sniff. "I'm surprised you know the meaning of the word."

Professor Dumbledore waited patiently for the applause to die down. "Yes, and a warm welcome to our newest professor. Furthermore, we have a returning professor this year in the form of Professor Fawley. A number of you have expressed an interest in studying for an Alchemy NEWT, and he is here to teach you. Should any additional sixth years wish to take up the subject, he tells me you must speak to him within the next two weeks."

The man did not seem quite so old as Professor Dumbledore, if that was even a possibility. Still, he greeted them all with a slight bow and an easy smile.

"Finally, Professor Grubbly-Plank is standing in for Professor Kettleburgh as he is still recovering from the loss of his forearm in an accident last week," said Professor Dumbledore. "He is expected to return to the Care of Magical Creatures post by the end of term.

"Alas, I seem to have taken a rather long moment," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Leaning forwards, he continued in a lower, conspiratorial voice. "Tuck in."

Ron's delight and relief were etched onto his face.

"Enjoying the meal, Ron?" Ginny giggled.

Harry paused in his own destruction of a steak to give her an accusing look. "And that pie is just eating itself, is it?"

He replied to her pout with a smirk. Ron, it seemed, hadn't heard a word of what had been said.

* * *

"How's she doing?" said Harry, as the prefects let them into the common room with a call of 'wattlebird'.

Ginny had rushed over to the Ravenclaws as soon as Professor Dumbledore had dismissed them. It was more than wanting to spend time with Luna, Harry knew. The girl was not the most likely candidate for everyone's favourite person. At least, not in a good way, she wasn't. And little though he knew Luna, Harry couldn't help but be a bit worried for her too.

"I think she'll be fine," said Ginny. "She's obviously nervous, but nobody will screw with a friend of ours."

"Nobody with a functioning brain in their head at any rate," Hermione smirked.

"Hi Ginny!" said Lavender.

"Hey Harry," said Parvati.

"Hey guys," said Ginny, giving Harry a look that plainly said 'this will take a while'.

He allowed himself to drift over to where Dean and Seamus were reacquainting themselves with Hogwarts life with a game of Exploding Snap. Neville and Ron soon joined him, bringing Fay and Rionach in their wake.

"Didn't realise this was such a spectator sport," Dean grinned.

"We're just here to see Seamus blow his eyebrows off again," Fay smirked.

"Oi, that's only happened like, three times now, alright?" said Seamus.

"It's the fire," said Dean. "It calls to him."

Seamus rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too. "How's everyone's holiday, alright?"

"Not terrible," Fay grinned. "Saw some granian horses in Norway, and we were at the rally at the weekend."

"Winged horses?" said Seamus.

"The Finland rally?" said Dean.

"And for the benefit of those of us who only recognise granians?" Neville grinned.

"Mostly young men driving cars much too fast on dirt tracks," Hermione sniffed.

"I think you meant nearly fast enough," said Dean.

Hermione gaped at him. "People die in those races!"

"People die driving cars normally," Dean said dismissively. "At least they're making the most of it."

"Boys," Hermione muttered.

"But yeah, pretty cool holiday," said Fay.

"Well, I'm out," said Neville.

"Me too," said Dean.

Seamus grinned, looking up from the game. "Can't compete with that."

Bang!

"Well..." said Rionach. "Your eyebrows are fine."

The same couldn't be said of the hair on the side of his head. Small tendrils of smoke faded away to reveal a slightly blackened area.

"You should just go skinhead mate," Dean laughed. "Save yourself the trouble."

"Um... eww," said Lavender. "Although if you're trying to look hot Seamus this really isn't working."

"Ooooohhh!"

"Mate," said Neville. "You just got burned."

Seamus shook his head with a disappointed smile. "I feel so welcome back at school, thanks guys."

"I'll be right back," Ginny whispered.

Harry turned to watch her head off up the girls' staircase. He knew what she was looking for. In turn, he headed up to collect the invisibility cloak. The diary was theirs and nobody else's. For their eyes only.

 _Reply time!_

 _Thanks again for the reviews, by the way, I really appreciate them!_

 _Killermouze: There certainly are pacing issues through the story. I'd say it's my weakest area, but I am working on it (mainly for the sake of the next story). Much of GBAM was written when I was thirteen, with some editing here and there._

 _To adm-frb, there are bits of 'crossover' from the prologue onwards, but I don't introduce any Star Wars characters until late in the Chamber storyline, but I understand the point. I deliberated over which section to put this story in for a while, to be honest._


	27. 27 - Freshly Caught Cornish Pixies

Harry's first day was interesting, to say the least. It started out normally enough. He walked down to breakfast with Ron and Neville, humming a forgotten tune to himself and wondering when the first Quidditch practise would be. By the time they reached the Great Hall the tables were piled high with bacon and eggs and porridge and hash browns, and they soon set to work on remedying this issue. All that weight was surely bad for the table after all.

Unfortunately but rather predictably, the ceiling did not bring them quite so much joy. It was a dull grey, the exact colour and consistency of misery and disappointment. Looking across at Malfoy, Harry wondered that his eyes seemed so similar to the sky. Perhaps the misery was his mother's, and he got the disappointment from his father.

These thoughts trailed off as the girls dumped themselves onto the bench, sitting across the table from them.

"Alright?" Ginny grinned, grabbing two hands full of hash browns.

"Fine," Neville shrugged. "You?"

Hermione took some cereal and propped Voyages with Vampires open against the milk jug.

"Mail should be here in a minute," said Ron.

Harry chuckled lightly. "It's like we're settling back into it already."

"If this year is anything like last year, I somehow doubt it'll be _settled_ ," said Hermione, not looking up from her book.

"Good point," Ginny smirked.

"Mail," said Neville.

A small package dropped neatly into Neville's lap. The Longbottom family owl, Tyocles, headed straight back out.

"Is that a new spell or something?" said Parvati.

"It's called timing," Harry grinned.

Neville opened the note affixed to the package and gasped. It was with a tentative hand that he unwrapped the package, which gave few clues to the nature of what it contained. The item itself, a cuff-like thing of dark leather, was a mystery to Harry too.

"A wand holster," said Ginny, surprised. "Where'd you get one of those?"

Neville said nothing. Instead, he stared at the note in his hand. After a shaky, heavy breath, Neville relaxed into a melancholy smile. "From my dad."

"Pretty cool," said Ron. "You've never mentioned your dad before. Ow!"

Hermione was giving Ron a meaningful glare, but Neville politely ignored them. "He was an Auror."

"One of the best," Ginny said softly. "Was that his?"

"Gran's present to me on my birthday was a mail order for the thing to be keyed to me," said Neville. Methodically stretching out his right hand, he loosened up the holster and slipped it onto his wrist. Though it had clearly been too big to begin with, it seamlessly morphed to make a snug fit. "Guess I never really believed her."

Sliding his wand home, he let his sleeve fall over it.

"I think you sort of just..." Neville reached out, pointing at nothing, and the wand shot out of the holster. Ginny caught it just before it disappeared over the edge of the table. "Err..."

"Practise?" Ginny suggested.

"Yeah," said Neville, retrieving his wand and putting it in his pocket.

"Professor McGonagall has our timetables, look," said Hermione.

"A Knut says we're with the Slytherins first thing," said Ginny.

"I'll take that bet," Harry grinned.

"You two are a terrible influence," Hermione called to the twins. They only laughed between themselves.

"Miss Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Ginny didn't even look up when she thanked the professor, her eyes flitting straight to the top of Wednesday. "Oh poo."

"Don't worry, I'll get you a chocolate frog as consolation," said Harry. "Thanks professor."

Ginny gave him a shy little grin. "I think it's consolation enough to not have my first class with the Slytherins."

"Well, if you don't want the chocolate..." said Harry.

"Wait, wait!" Ginny blurted. "I didn't say that!"

The walk down to the greenhouses was pleasant and peaceful enough. Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs was a pretty good draw for first class — the Hufflepuffs were generally an agreeable lot and Professor Sprout was a warmer figure than Professor McGonagall. As they arrived, they noticed the Herbology professor walking down from one of the restricted greenhouses.

Walking next to Professor Sprout in her muddy robes was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, immaculate in robes of gold trimmed turquoise that might have been brand new. Where Professor Sprout was quite literally a down to earth sort of person, Professor Lockhart might have just walked off a magazine cover. And Professor Sprout looked none too happy to be walking with the new professor of Defence.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a fallen star! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before – greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants.

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word – you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harry," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.

"When I heard – well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on, "All that sorry business at King's Cross Station yesterday. I'm really surprised that you would allow your friends to carry on like that. Envy is one of the first problems one encounters on this path, Harry, and it would not do for you to let friends burn out or get into trouble trying to keep up with you. After all, a front page feature with the likes of me would turn anyone green!"

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking. Harry gaped at the man.

"Harry, Harry, _Harry_ ," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "I've been through it all before! I find that there is a great kind of responsibility that comes with fame. Someday, perhaps, you might be able to use your name for the good of society as I do, but for now you should use it to keep your friends on the straight and narrow, you catch my meaning?"

Harry couldn't think of a single syllable to respond with. Instead he pinched himself, sure that he was dreaming. _'Surely nobody can be_ that _full of it?'_

"Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "I know, I know – it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have – but it's a start, Harry, it's a start."

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off.

"I stand corrected," Harry muttered. Then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Ginny, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

There were a few startled murmurs when Neville's hand shot up with Hermione's.

A small smile crept onto Professor Sprout's face. "Mr. Longbottom."

"Mandrakes are great for restorative potions," said Neville. "They'll undo curses and transfiguration. There's fourteen kinds under the Mandragora group. Twelve are mundane. You've got the common magical mandrake which is used as a restorative, but I... can't remember what the other one is."

He looked to Hermione for assistance, but she was just sitting and staring at him.

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again. Neville nodded to her slightly, as if passing the buck.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Another five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. Harry, who'd been given prior warning about the danger of the mandrake's cry from three directions in the summer, chose the earmuffs he wanted and shuffled over towards it.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right – earmuffs on."

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs. Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray – there is a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter... And you're Ginny Weasley, the special talent."

Ginny turned slightly pink, but didn't manage to string her thoughts together into sentences. She managed to shake his hand though.

"And Ron Weasley. Chess master extraordinaire, am I right?"

Ron shrugged off the praise verbally, but Harry could see the joy in his eyes.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and – zap – just fantastic."

"I've, err, heard a lot about him, yeah," said Harry.

"Say, what did he want to talk to you about?" said Justin curiously.

"Himself," Harry smirked. "He seems a bit full of himself, to be honest."

"I suppose after all he's done, he's earned a bit of an ego," Justin chuckled. "My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family..."

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. Harry spent nearly five minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot before Ginny took pity on him and telekinetically forced the stubborn thing home.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everybody bar Ginny, that was. She just had a fine coating of dirt to contend with. Everyone else traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash. Everyone that is, except for Neville, who was walking with a pronounced spring to his step. And in spite of his fatigue, Harry couldn't have felt happier for him.

This did not ease his discontent at having to rush his shower before Transfiguration. He shared mutinous looks with his roommates as they forced themselves out of the bathroom to change back into school robes. Still, he felt a smile tug at his lips as he sat down for his first second year class with his Head of House.

Today's task was turning beetles into buttons. It wasn't the easiest of tasks, and Harry hadn't used a transfiguration spell in months, but when Ginny cast the spell and started weaving patterns into her perfectly formed button, Harry was galvanised into action.

"I can see that my help won't be needed at this table," said Professor McGonagall. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry shared a smirk with Ginny, but soon found himself captivated with watching her work. Ginny oozed power. Harry was quite convinced that if she didn't play around with her magic so much she'd overload and blow up. But to watch her now, with her dual core wand... It was perfect for her. Even before she began to cast, energy spilled from it in golden light, channelled neatly and safely through the rune-engraved grooves. As the spell reached her lips, the light would shine more brightly, leaking the excess that might cause a lesser wand to burn out. But no matter what she needed to do, her wish was magic's command.

Harry felt a wonderful kind of satisfaction as he sat to eat his lunch. As first days went, it hadn't been so bad. There hadn't been even a hint of Snape or his Slytherins to ruin it for him.

"What's next?" he asked, piling up his plate with pork chops, potatoes, gravy and carrots.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione immediately. "It's with the Slytherins."

Harry pushed his plate away. "Funny, my appetite just disappeared."

"Lies," said Ginny.

"Lies," Harry admitted, pulling his plate back.

" _Why_ ," demanded Ron, seizing Hermione's schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

"You what?" said Harry, barely keeping from choking on a bit of pork.

Hermione hid behind Voyages with Vampires all the way through lunch. After they'd finished eating, they decided to head out to the courtyard to enjoy the clouds. Somehow Harry couldn't summon the energy for any adventures, so while Hermione sat on a stone step with her nose buried in Lockhart's book, the rest of them sat with their backs to the wall, idly chatting about school and what new messes might be waiting for them.

It wasn't long before the first one arrived.

Harry had been sitting around chatting for maybe five minutes when he had the discomforting feeling that he was being watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm – I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward.

Harry blinked, wrong-footed by just how nervous the boy was.

"I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think – would it be all right if – can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

 ** _'_** ** _It's either give him what he wants quickly and quietly and hope you don't get a mob asking for photos later, or try to fob him off before someone notices,'_** said Ginny.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead."

Harry rose to his feet slowly, finding that the first year barely came to his shoulder. "Look, Colin, I'm sure you're a nice guy and all but I don't really go in for that sort of stuff."

"Please, Harry?" he said, his eyes going quite wide. "My family aren't magic, so I'm sending lots of photos home and it would be really good if I could get one of you! And... And maybe you could sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry kicked himself for not shutting Colin down faster. The kid had looked so hopeful that it felt like kicking a puppy.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," Harry said derisively. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat a dick, Malfoy," said Ron angrily.

Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to get into trouble with Lockhart now, do you?"

Ron frowned at the Slytherin. "What are you on about now?"

Ginny put a hand on her brother's arm.

"You think I didn't see your mother?" said Malfoy, overjoyed that he'd been given his opening. "That was your mother, wasn't it? The little fat one?"

Hermione and Neville were now physically restraining a livid Ron, while Harry did his level best to soothe Ginny's mind with a hand on her back. The other students' jeering oohs did not help.

"She was in the crowd with all the others, wasn't she, at Flourish and Blotts?" Malfoy went on. "Preening for Lockhart. I suppose your father would rather struggle to keep a woman loyal. How many of you are even his?"

By this point the crowd, and there was one to be certain, were beside themselves. Problematically, so were the Weasleys.

Ron wrenched one arm free, but Neville held firm to the other. To Harry's dismay, and slight satisfaction, there was nothing he could do to stop the magical retort Ginny produced.

And yet, Harry's satisfaction was short lived, for the spell fizzled out against a transparent shield. To her credit, the shield rippled violently before evaporating, but Malfoy's victorious smirk was clearly driving Harry's siblings potty.

"Weaslette, you really need some new tricks," Malfoy taunted. Turning to Harry, his smirk became still more pronounced as Ginny rippled with bright orange flame. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house –"

Hermione had been unable to recapture Ron's right arm, and finally seizing upon a rational thought, he went for his wand. Hermione did the related rational thinking, analysed their environment and froze. "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd. Ginny, burning brighter than ever, was glaring hatefully after the Slytherin. And Harry decided then that they'd lost enough battles for the day. He relaxed next to Lockhart, whose grasp relaxed in kind.

 _'_ _Nobody underestimates the reflexes of the youngest Seeker in a century,'_ Harry thought with satisfaction as he jolted forwards towards Colin, taking the boy by the shoulder and leading him away.

"So sorry, Professor Lockhart," said Harry, as the bell rang. "But we have to get ready for your class!"

Reaching out, Harry tenderly took Ginny's hand in his. Her blazing eyes met his, and she softened in a way that made him feel rather strange and gooey inside.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle.

"I'll see you later, alright, Colin?" said Harry, in a tone that brooked no argument. He made sure he wore a warm enough smile, though, so as not to hurt the boy's feelings. The little first year nodded and scurried off to his own class.

"We could have avoided all this if you'd listened," Ginny huffed.

"Hey," Harry grinned. "Since when am I any good at doing as I'm told?"

Ginny was literally still burning with anger, but it was a (mostly) playful prod in the chest that she gave him in reply. "Don't you take that attitude with me, mister, or you'll be in big trouble."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and Harry quickly busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing. The rest of the class came clattering in, and Harry's friends sat down on either side of him. Ginny's flames were finally beginning to subside, but she was still boring a hole through the back of Malfoy's skull as he passed them.

"We're going to get him," Harry promised.

As if he'd heard, Malfoy turned from three rows in front and gave Harry an evil smile.

"Yes, we are," said Ginny furiously. "Nobody talks about Mum like that and gets away with it."

"I'm going to break his smarmy face," Ron growled.

"No, no, no," Hermione protested. "You'll get in so much trouble, it isn't worth it."

"He needs to be taught a lesson," said Ron.

"Something he won't forget," said Ginny.

"This is exactly what he wants," Hermione moaned. "He's already won."

"He'll never stop, no matter what you do," said Neville.

Ginny's rage rapidly broke as Neville spoke, but Ron was clearly still seething.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Lavender Brown's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award – but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in –"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes – start – now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?

2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of parchment, right down to:

54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"There is literally no word for this guy," said Ginny in disgust.

"Egomaniac?" Neville suggested.

"Not strong enough," said Ginny.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Lockhart. "Hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples. Though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good girl! In fact..." He flipped her paper over. "Full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so... to business."

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it. "Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Malfoy was looking vaguely curious, but mostly bored, while Pansy Parkinson trembled slightly behind him.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"

And he opened the cage. It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window.

Harry and Ginny stared around at the chaos. It felt like being underwater in a rushing current. Above them, Neville yelled as he grabbed the two offending pixies and, as he fell, smashed them on the ground. There was no visible damage, but the creatures did not get up. Blood dripped from Neville's ears and hands where they'd fought him, but he seemed little more than angry.

"Come on now – round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk.

"ENOUGH!" Ginny shouted. Her voice rang with power, her wand pulsing in its excitement. The pixies heard her. Every single one froze where they were, staring at her. "Well, throw them back in the cage. I can't be doing everything."

Perhaps there was magic lingering in her command, for even the Slytherins complied. Lockhart crawled out from under his desk, adopting a proud smile.

"Well done," said Lockhart. "Bravo. Truly an impressive display for one so young. Might I presume that you are Miss Ginny Weasley?"

"You might," said Ginny tersely.

"I was warned about you," Lockhart grinned, apparently unfazed by the fact that Ginny had yet to even look at him. "Class, you've just seen an impressive bit of charm work. Perhaps you'd like to read up on what exactly it is that she did?"

"Please professor," said Hermione. "It was a type of Compulsion Charm — the Vox Terrerentra."

"Indeed," said Lockhart. "Far beyond your level. Take ten points to Gryffindor."

"Can you believe him?" Ron muttered angrily as they left.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione.

Neville quietly thanked Ginny as she finished healing his cuts and cleaned off the dried blood.

"Hands on?" said Harry. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing –"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done –"

"He says he's done," said Neville.


	28. 28 - Hearing Voices

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it. Ginny seemed to enjoy his discomfort, though, so at least she was happy.

As for the others, Harry couldn't help but feel a growing sense of annoyance with Ron and Hermione. The clearer it became that Lockhart was a useless, pretty boy of a fraud, the more vociferously Hermione defended him. Harry could've sworn he'd seen her studious focus lapse into sappy staring on more than one occasion. And Ron's anger was becoming harder and harder to keep leashed. He'd heard his friend pounding his pillow in the evenings, and it was surely only a matter of time before he snapped and attacked Malfoy.

A great solace to them both was Riddle's diary, which continued to be excellent company. Harry was beginning to wonder how they'd managed at Hogwarts without it.

On Saturday morning, they planned to all go and visit Hagrid together with Luna, who Harry had seen little of since the start of term. However, the intervening period of sleep was rudely cut short by Oliver Wood physically shaking the dreams out of him.

"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. His eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm.

Harry rubbed the sleep from his face just to better show Oliver his displeasure.

"It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year..."

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes. "Sleep's pretty important for training," he muttered.

Apparently, his captain didn't hear him. Or perhaps his new strategy for dealing with insolence was to pretend it didn't exist. "Good man. Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! I wanted to ask, you know, I mean I know that Slytherin boy got in the way of the photo, and..." Colin waved his camera in a vaguely hopeful motion.

Harry looked back up the completely empty stairwell, considered the time, and just barely held himself back from making a comment. He was almost as curious as he was creeped out by the way Colin had found him.

"No, Colin," said Harry, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, I haven't got time, I'm in a hurry – Quidditch practice..."

He climbed through the portrait hole. "Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

And, predictably, Colin stuck to him like an extremely talkative shadow all the way down to the pitch. Harry resorted to wishing one of the gargoyles would fall off the castle walls and bang him on the head so that he wouldn't be able to hear the boy's excited yammering. He only shook Colin off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already there, though Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired next to Alicia, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Katie and Angelina yawned side by side on the opposite bench.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference..."

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different coloured inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred's head drooped right onto Alicia's shoulder and he began to snore. The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We are the champions." There was a muted cheer at that. "That means we've all got targets painted on our backs."

"Guess we should all take a quick shower," said Fred.

"Come on team," said Wood. "Do you want to be the ones handing that cup back to the Slytherins?"

That got a reaction.

"Right then," said Wood, apparently satisfied with their level of inspiration. "This year we train harder, longer and better. Let's get out there and put our new theories into practice!"

He seized his broomstick with his usual fervour and led them out onto the pitch. Slapping themselves awake, the team tried, and failed, to reach half of his energy levels.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw all the others sitting together in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron was munching on. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

"Don't worry," said Ginny, "there's some honey on toast and hash browns waiting for you."

Harry mounted his broomstick with a stomach now aching for the promised food, but a mind well motivated to getting practise out of the way as soon as possible. This was a wish he would soon come to regret.

However, as he felt his broom hum beneath him, smoothly carrying him into the sky, he felt his mortal woes melt away. The cool morning air whipping his face stripped away the lethargy far more effectively than Wood's long talk. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" said Fred.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a burst of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.' "

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount.

"As for the old Cleansweeps..." He smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching their prized Cleansweep Fives. "Sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Harry's friends were all crossing the grass to see what was going on. Or, four of them were. Luna might have just decided to join in for the sake of a stroll.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

There was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!", and Ron plunged his hand into his robes and pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the end of Ron's wand, only to splash harmlessly against a translucent shield.

"That's enough," said Ginny. She was lacking her usual fire though. "He's not worth it. Honestly, Malfoy, are you gay for Harry or something?"

Malfoy spluttered. "Wh-what? What did you just say?"

"Gay," said Ginny calmly. "Homosexual. You want his dick-"

"I understand the word gay, you trollop!" Malfoy seethed.

Having recovered from the shock, Harry shared a smirk with Hermione. His girlfriend was truly brilliant. She was completely mad, to be true, but she was brilliant.

"You couldn't leave him alone all of first year after he rejected you," said Ginny. "And now you're trying his position in Quidditch, so... what? You can try to be better than him at something? Maybe have something in _common_ with him? Spend a bit more time... _close_ to him?"

Ron and Malfoy had completely switched roles. The usually pale Slytherin was bright red in his rage, and was now going for his own wand.

"That's enough, Weasley," said Flint. "If Potter wants to advertise for male company he can do it in the Prophet or something."

That calmed Malfoy down enough that he dropped his hand from his robe pocket.

"If Harry Potter wanted company of any kind..." said Fred.

"He wouldn't need to advertise," George finished.

"Now, are we going to play Quidditch or are we going to stay here grandstanding all day?" said Harry. He was eyeing the stacked plates Neville and Hermione were carrying with great desire.

Wood was still angry, but he was weighing up his options, and eventually sighed. "We'll come back later. Enjoy the new brooms, lads. You might need them."

"Right you are, Wood," Flint smirked.

"You gave up?" Angelina said disbelievingly once they were out of earshot.

Wood shrugged. "They'd have just sabotaged our practise, even forgetting the fact that they could analyse all our plays."

"We could've returned the favour," Alicia suggested.

"Oh that would end just marvellously," Wood groused. "Both teams probably banned from the pitch for a couple of weeks and four players in the infirmary for a few days. Besides, the only plays Slytherin have are varyingly subtle forms of cheating."

"Hear, hear," Fred and George grinned.

Harry barely even tracked the conversation, scarfing down honeyed toast after sweet, sweet honeyed toast.

"Oh, you have the plate," said Hermione after he turned to her for the fourth time. She sounded annoyed, but she'd turned her face away. Harry wasn't about to complain. He felt like there was a gaping hole in the bottom of his stomach.

"Right, I'll see you lot later," said Wood.

"Where you headed?" said Fred.

"The library. I've resolved to keep on top of my NEWTs," Wood said drily.

Alicia snorted. "Let us know how that one works out."

The others split off in turn, until it was just Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna walking down towards Hagrid's.

"Where'd Creevey go?" said Neville.

Harry made a non-committal sound.

"Probably ran out of film for the camera," Hermione sighed.

"He is very... enthusiastic," said Luna.

"Call it that," Ron laughed.

Unfortunately, Colin arrived mere seconds later, hurrying along after them. Harry was beginning to worry about the kid. He desperately needed some friends of his own - he couldn't be forever following Harry.

"That was incredible! You really put him in his place!" Colin gushed. "You're Ginny, aren't you? Ginny Weasley?"

"That's me," said Ginny. "Thank you."

"Are you and Malfoy enemies then, Harry?" said Colin. "Why would anyone want to be your enemy? You took down You-Know-Who, what's he going to do?"

"Good question, Colin," said Ron. "Maybe he's going to go back to his room and cry, kissing Harry's photo."

Harry made a face. "That's bad enough. I know what you didn't say."

"What didn't he say?" Colin asked, once everyone else was done laughing or retching.

"Colin..." Hermione sighed. "Come with me a moment."

Everyone else stopped to watch, bemused, as Hermione led the first year away.

"Is she... taking one for the team?" Ron asked.

Neville snorted. "She's not _that_ generous."

A few minutes later, Colin took one last look at them and walked away, leaving Hermione to return to them alone.

"What did you say?" Ron said, gaping.

Hermione shrugged. "I just suggested that if he wanted to be friends with Harry he was probably going about it the wrong way."

"He didn't look too crushed," Neville noted.

"I was quite clear that he and Harry might definitely be friends in the future if he'd calm down a little," said Hermione.

Harry groaned. "Well, as long as he's not following me around everywhere, then I guess that's fine. Thanks Hermione."

"No problem," said Hermione. "Oh!"

It was quite clear what had caught her attention. The front door of Hagrid's hut had just opened, but it was Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, who came striding out.

"Everyone hide," Harry urged.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Hermione, but everyone else had jumped to do as he'd said, Ginny dragging Hermione behind a nearby bush. "Oh honestly, I have no idea what you have against the man."

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one – I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!"

And he strode away toward the castle. Harry waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then led everyone out of hiding and up to Hagrid's front door. Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me," said Hagrid. "Come in, come in... Thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again. An' who's this young lady?"

"Luna Lovegood, sir," said Luna.

Hagrid chuckled. "Listen ter that. Sir... I'm Hagrid, Luna, and there ain't no sir around here 'cept Sir Prance A Lot just left."

Hagrid bustled around making them tea. Fang the boarhound was slobbering over Harry.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts teacher, and Harry looked at him in surprise.

Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job –"

"He was the on'y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee. "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now."

"How long?" asked Neville.

"Thirty-five years," said Luna.

"What?" said Hagrid. "Tha' can't be right... Professor Selwyn retired in... let me think, it was sixty... sixty three. And he had the job since Professor Merrythought retired at the end of the World War."

Neville frowned. "And since then nobody's stayed defence professor?"

"It's gotten worse lately," said Hagrid. "After old Selwyn nobody 'ad it for more than a few years, but lately no-one's had it more than a year at a time."

"That is rather odd," Ginny frowned.

"Sounds like a jinx to me all right," said Neville.

"I wouldn't believe it," said Hagrid. "Who'd want to jinx a teachin' position? Nah, it's bad luck, tha's what it is."

For a moment there was only silence as they all enjoyed their tea, but then...

"Hagrid, Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood," said Ron.

Malfoy might have threatened Hermione's life from the look on Hagrid's face. "He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course –"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," Ron spat. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who's Muggle-born – you know, non-magic parents."

"It's a lot of elitist rot," said Neville vehemently. "Crabbe and Goyle are so inbred they can hardly count to ten."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting, stupid thing to say," said Ginny. "Dirty blood... Most wizards are half-blood at most - we'd've died out otherwise."

"You showed him though," Ron said, smiling faintly. "I'd have just cursed him, but Ginny was a bit more... inventive."

Ginny sniffed. "I just stated the obvious."

"What've yeh done, Ginny?" said Hagrid suspiciously. An embarrassed Neville whispered to him, and he roared with laughter. "Tha's terrible, that is. Least yeh saved Lucius Malfoy the trouble o' comin' up 'ere an' raisin' a fuss over someone cursin' 'is son."

"Yes, well, he had it coming," Ginny smirked.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

"Ha bloody ha," Harry griped, as everyone had a good laugh at his expense, Hagrid loudest of all.

"I'm on'y jokin'," said Hagrid, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go."

"Gone to preen in front of his mirror, I'll bet," said Neville in disgust.

"Count his Witch Weekly awards," Ron snorted.

"'Ere, come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Hermione finished her tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween feast... should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone. "Well, I've bin givin' them... you know... A bit o' help..."

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why – any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"Not going to bring up the finer points of Gamp's Law?" said Ginny, who was definitely amused.

"Gamp's...?" said Hermione suspiciously, before whipping out a pen and pad.

The rest of them, Hagrid included, just shook their heads bemusedly.

As lunchtime approached, they said goodbye to Hagrid, eager to get food in their bellies that wasn't at risk of not staying there, or staying there a bit too long. The shepherd's pie Harry found waiting for him was a lot more appetising.

"He seemed nice," said Luna.

"He's a lot of fun," Harry agreed.

"Not the sharpest knife in the drawer," Ginny winced. "But he's great."

Harry grimaced. As much as he loved Hagrid, his giving away Fluffy's weakness had been troublesome to say the least.

"Don't say that," said Ron. "She's a Ravenclaw."

Luna tilted her head at him, as though considering. "I'm also a human," she said. "I can make friends with whoever I wish."

Ginny gave her a warm, bright smile.

* * *

"But did you see his face?" said Neville.

"It was classic," Harry laughed. "Just the timing was so perfect."

"I'm just amazed we got so much pus into a quill," said Neville.

"At least he had his mouth shut," Harry said, shuddering.

"Don't even go there," said Neville.

They were heading back to a Gryffindor tower after a successful prank on Malfoy in the library. Harry would have brought Ginny if he could find her. Hermione, however, was currently forcing Ron to do his Potions essay, making the both of them unavailable. Not that Hermione would have approved, even if the prank was retaliation for Malfoy's slant against her. Perhaps especially with that being the case.

Just as they rounded the corridor, heading towards the Grand Staircase, Harry froze in his tracks. A voice whispered from the walls, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

 _"_ _Come... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..."_

Harry gave a huge jump as soon as he heard the word 'rip', pulling his wand and aiming down the empty corridors with lethal precision. "What?" he said loudly.

"Harry?" said Neville.

"The voice!" said Harry. "Didn't you hear?"

Neville looked as though he was about to laugh, then looked closer at Harry and all mirth left him. Drawing his own wand, he stood at Harry's left, covering the other end of the corridor.

"I don't see anything," said Harry.

"Stick to main corridors?" said Neville.

"Yeah."

They hurried up to the Common Room, finding Ron and Hermione still hard at work - Ron on his essay, Hermione on third year elective textbooks.

"Where's Ginny?" said Harry.

"Still haven't seen her, why?" said Hermione.

Harry paled. "There was a voice in the corridor. Well, only I heard it, but it was talking about wanting to kill."

"Is this what the elf was trying to warn you about?" said Ron, who had lost any and all interest in his homework the moment he saw Harry.

"She could be anywhere," Hermione said. "Harry, are you sure you didn't...?"

Harry was already gone. Anxiety was trickling through in small amounts... he could just about trace her. She was below them, and moving upwards. If he had to guess, she was on the third floor and rising. That was higher than where he'd heard the voice, but he couldn't risk it.

Grabbing the edge of the portrait hole, Harry flung himself into the corridor, running to the Grand Staircase. He had a stronger sense of her now. On the sixth floor he practically ran into Ginny as she emerged onto the Grand Staircase.

She looked almost afraid for a second before she gathered herself. "What's going on?"

Harry said nothing, just wrapped her tightly in his arms. She was safe.


	29. 29 - The Deathday Party

September passed in a haze. Lockhart was still an incredible annoyance, but at least he didn't try any practical class work after the horror show of the pixies. Rather, he interspersed retelling his grand and glorious adventures with tidbits of relevant information that few paid enough attention to grasp. Hermione was one of them, growing more starry eyed with every lesson.

Harry had initially thought to get her a pixie for her birthday. Unfortunately, Ginny wouldn't let him, somehow convincing him to get a signed photo of Lockhart for Hermione instead. Harry wasn't best pleased to have to ask Lockhart for it. The way that the man had grinned had made Harry want to break every one of his perfect white teeth. And somehow, Hermione's happiness at receiving it just irritated Harry. From the barely restrained joy on Hermione's face, he wouldn't be surprised if she was keeping it under her pillow.

But in spite of the birthday celebrations, tensions began to rise as they moved into October. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with Harry apparently having heard voices in his head.

Ginny wasn't inviting him to talk to the diary as often. Harry didn't mind too much - lately, he hadn't felt much need to talk to Riddle. But regardless of what he did or didn't want, Ginny was slowly becoming more reclusive, and without her it fell to Harry and Neville to keep Ron and Hermione's regular arguments from becoming something much worse. Neville bore the brunt of this in the end, because ultimately Harry was getting quite tired of the bickering. Why should they be burdened with it? If Ron and Hermione wanted to tear each other apart, let them have at it and perhaps they might be satisfied when they are done.

Furthermore, Luna seemed directly affected by Ginny's low spirits. Her normally vacant expression had morphed into a vaguely troubled one, though she would not say what was the matter. This doubled back on Ginny in a vicious cycle with no end in sight.

A moment of relief came when Percy, convinced that her issues stemmed from an infection that was circulating, finally persuaded Ginny to take one of Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potions. It did restore some colour to her cheeks, but the steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Harry managed, with some effort, to sell to her the idea that it was a flattering look on her, and thought that she gave him the first genuine Ginny grin he'd seen in about three weeks. He certainly hadn't seen it since.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end. The lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened.

"Eight o'clock sharp on Saturday, everyone," said Wood. "We're cannot give them one inch!"

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles.

The rest of the team hit the showers, not even sparing their captain a sideways glance. Harry headed straight back up to the castle. The rain weighed on his already low mood, but so long as he was fighting through it, he didn't feel like collapsing on the muddied path. It was with a heavy sigh of relief that he breached the castle walls, and a heavier sigh still that he realised how many flights of stairs he would be dragging himself up to reach his dorm showers.

 _'_ _Why did I leave my Nimbus in the broom shed?'_ he thought despondently.

As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "...don't fulfill their requirements... half an inch, if that..."

"Hello, Nick," said Harry.

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round.

Harry sighed, looking at the torrential rain through his House Ghost's head. Though he was no longer at its mercy, the damage was done. A shiver passed down his spine as more water dripped from his hair onto the back of his neck and down his back. Nick, wearing his customary medieval garb, offered Harry a sympathetic wince.

"So you feel the rain, Sir Nick?" said Harry.

"I remember it, I think," said Nick wistfully, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet. "But you look troubled, young Potter."

"So do you," said Harry.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance... It's not as though I really wanted to join... Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements'."

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh, yes," said Harry.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However..." Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:

"'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'"

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore." Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, "So, what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No," said Harry. "Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly-"

The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood – he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place..."

"Right," said Harry, reaching for his invisibility cloak and realising with a pang of despair that he had left it in Gryffindor tower.

Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"

So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment.

"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies... frog brains... rat intestines... I've had enough of it... make an example... where's the form... yes..."

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot. " _Name_... Harry Potter. _Crime_..."

"It was only a bit of mud!" said Harry.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. "Crime... befouling the castle... suggested sentence..."

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry, who waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall. But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backward glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him. Harry had never much liked Peeves, but he couldn't help feeling grateful for the poltergeist's timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harry.

Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read:

KWIKSPELL

A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page said:

Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork?

There is an answer!

Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!

Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:

"I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"

Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says:

"My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"

Fascinated, Harry thumbed through the rest of the envelope's contents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean he wasn't a proper wizard? Harry had never seen him holding a wand, let alone casting spells - all the work Filch did seemed limited to elbow grease. In retrospect, this seemed rather cruel. Any of the teachers could clean up any sort of a mess with nary a thought. And yet, Filch didn't seem to have trouble keeping up with the workload most of the time, and in a castle of this size...

Harry was just reading "Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)" when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch was coming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened. Filch was looking triumphant.

"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet..."

His eyes fell on Harry and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which, Harry realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started. Filch's pasty face went brick red. Harry braced himself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer.

"Have you... did you read...?" he sputtered.

"No," Harry lied quickly.

Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together. "If I thought you'd read my private – not that it's mine – for a friend – be that as it may – however..."

Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well. Go... and don't breathe a word – not that – however, if you didn't read – go now, I have to write up Peeves' report – go..."

Amazed at his luck, Harry sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.

"Harry! Harry! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage of a large black-and-gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him..."

"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!"

They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter.

"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," Harry said.

Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry walked right through him. He wished he hadn't; it was like stepping through an icy shower, and Harry was cold enough already.

"But there is something you could do for me," said Nick excitedly. "Harry – would I be asking too much – but no, you wouldn't want –"

"What is it?" said Harry.

"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.

"Oh," said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. "Right."

"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honor if you would attend. Your friends would be most welcome, too, of course – but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?"

He watched Harry on tenterhooks.

"No," said Harry quickly, "I'll come –"

"My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And–" he hesitated, looking excited. "Do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"

"Of... of course," said Harry.

Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him.

"A deathday party?" said Hermione keenly when Harry had changed at last and joined everyone in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Sounds dead depressing to me..."

Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander. Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smoldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.

Harry was at the point of explaining what had happened with Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The background of a cheering crowd, Percy biting his tongue and watching patiently from the stairs, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and its escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Harry's mind.

* * *

The following day, Harry found Luna playing gobstones with a couple of her classmates. Upon seeing him, the others nudged each other and stared at him, but Luna kept her attention fixed on her gobstone, which she calmly flicked into the ring. It knocked quite bodily into her friend's, sending it careening into the central pit, and yet still managed to nudge a precariously placed second gobstone. The translucent green sphere worried at the edge for a moment, before dropping in with a plunk.

"Harry Potter," said Luna. "This is Aracel Smythe..."

The freckled boy with wavy brown hair stumbled out a greeting, blue eyes fixed on Harry's tie.

"... and Fiora Greengrass."

A blonde girl who didn't even manage words. She tried to meet his eyes, but blushed and went for a little wave instead.

"She's a distant cousin of Daphne Greengrass," Luna explained.

"Nice to meet you both," said Harry, feeling only a little awkward. "Luna, could I have a word?"

"Lateral," said Luna. "Unless you were looking for ownership of the word, in which case I wouldn't be of much help. However, they are experimenting with thought-stealing magic in the Department of Mysteries that could hold an entire idea hostage. They plan to use it to force the centaurs to serve them in the secret war with the goblins."

Harry blinked, trying to reconcile what Luna was saying with his now scattered thought processes. Her classmates were blushing furiously, glancing nervously at Harry.

"Uh, no thanks, Luna," said Harry. "I just wanted to talk to you in private for a moment. If you two don't mind?"

They looked confused, but hurried off all the same.

"They're a little odd, aren't they?" said Luna. "That's okay though. I like odd. Odd means interesting. I had to pretend not to be odd at muggle school, so things weren't very interesting."

"Yeah," said Harry. "What was that like, anyway? Knowing about magic, but still...?"

"Living with people who thought it a fantasy?" said Luna. "Muggle children believe in a lot of things, Harry Potter. You might know. It was not too much bother to keep the secret safe. It was only... lonely. But I had Daddy, and Mummy and... and Ginny."

Harry was silent for a moment, watching Luna gaze vacantly at a tree. "Are you very keen on going to the Halloween feast, Luna?"

"I shouldn't like to miss my first one," said Luna. "I've heard that they are quite delightful."

"It was good last year," Harry admitted, not glad to be reminded of his internal conflict. "But I might have something better. A deathday party."

"Interesting," said Luna. "Are you inviting me to the Gryffindor House Ghost's deathday party, Harry Potter?"

"That... is what I'm doing, yes," Harry frowned. "How did you know whose deathday it was?"

"I know of only one Hogwarts ghost that died on Halloween," said Luna. "It was an educated guess."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, yeah, we're all going - would you like to come?"

"I would love to, thank you Harry," said Luna. "I am assuming that we do not have to be dead to attend."

"I should bloody hope so," Harry grinned.

Luna's lips twitched.

* * *

By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to go to the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry bossily. "You said you'd go to the deathday party."

"I'm not going back on it," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe we'll catch the end of the feast."

At seven o'clock, Harry and his five friends walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons. The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come..."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor.

They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle –"

"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.

"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Ginny.

"She haunts a _toilet_?" said Neville.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you–"

"Look, food!" said Ron.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. Ron hurried ahead, lead as ever by his stomach.

"I don't think Myrtle is so bad," said Luna. "She has suffered a lot."

"We've all got our problems," said Hermione. "It doesn't mean she-"

Hermione stopped abruptly as she narrowly avoided Ron. Their ginger friend looked horrified. It didn't take the rest of them long to figure out what had upset him. The smell alone was enough to make Harry nauseous.

Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington

died 31st October, 1492

Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked him.

"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.

"I think I should go to the toilet," Ginny muttered.

They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.

"Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," said Hermione.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle."

He took a deep breath, only to be interrupted by an irritated Ginny. "Get out of the way Peeves, or I'll show you your insides."

"Ooooohhhoohoohooo!" said Peeves in an annoying, sing-song voice as Ginny pushed past. "Feeling testy, are we?"

"I warned you," said Ginny darkly, not even looking around.

Peeves let out a strangled whimper. "Stop it!"

"I can do whatever I like, Peeves," Ginny called. "Remember that."

Harry wanted to feel proud. By all rights it seemed like he should. Yet, something had felt just a little bit off about the whole encounter. He shared a concerned look with Luna, who was being strangely expressive today. Everything was odd lately.

Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh, yes," they lied.

"Not a bad turnout," said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent... It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra..."

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

"Oh, here we go," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap, too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd, who were laughing uproariously at his antics, and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," said Nick stiffly.

"Live 'uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry and his friends and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again. The crowd howled with laughter.

"Very amusing," said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

"Don't mind Nick!" shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say – look at the fellow..."

"Yes, do," said Neville. "It is his deathday."

"Perhaps we went to the wrong place," said Hermione.

"Why would the Ghost of Gryffindor Tower be upset over you not wanting him?" said Luna with vague curiosity. "He holds his position in the honour of Godric Gryffindor himself, looking after generations of the best magical talent in the country, and keeps company with other ghosts in similar positions. As far as I can tell, you are a... group of entertainers?"

Luna being Luna, her tone was neither flattering not offensive, but she had had a marked effect on everyone in the room. Nick was certainly holding himself with greater pride than he had been, and Patrick didn't look quite so pleased with himself. The crowd seemed rather amused, although perhaps that was little change in their demeanour.

"Yes, entertainers," said Sir Patrick, rolling his head across his shoulders from one arm to the other and balancing it on a finger. "A band of the beheaded who got together to make this existence a little less dreary. Something dear Sir Nick clearly wanted to be a part of!"

"Is that you, Nick?" said Harry quietly. "You're a great Gryffindor ghost. Would you be a great... show-off, or whatever that would make you?"

"It would have been a nice thing to try, I admit," said Nick. "But I had no intention of abandoning my post here!"

"Then perhaps this was for the best, old chap!" said Sir Patrick. "Headless Hockey!"

The crowd, who had largely been watching proceedings with mild interest, grew rather more energetic as the group set up and began knocking one of their heads around. The head in question remarked on nearly every hit it took, putting some of the onlookers in stitches.

"For centuries I have stood here," said Nick wistfully. "Ever since I took over from King Harold."

At this, Hermione's eyes went wide as saucers, and she made a funny little noise as she spun around to stare at a knight with an arrow protruding from his helmet.

Nick sighed. "Is it so wrong to wish to do something frivolous with my death? At least for a while?"

"No," said Harry. "But Podmore seems like a bit of a..."

"Prick," said Ron.

Harry winced. "It might be a bit harsh. But if you _were_ fully decapitated, would you want to go around with _that_ guy?"

"You may have a point," said Nick. "He probably wouldn't make the most pleasant of friends. And I wouldn't have been able to participate, I know that. I just wanted a change of pace... of scenery."

"Something will come along," said Neville.

"I'm glad you think so," Nick smiled. "Perhaps you'd best be going. We've an unfortunate lack of suitable food for you - I do apologise."

"Don't worry about it," Harry grinned, pleased that he would get his belly filled soon. "Peeves would've just mixed it up with all the rotten stuff anyway."

Bidding Sir Nicholas farewell, they were about to leave when they realised that Hermione had disappeared. It took only a few seconds to find her. Looking rather solemn, she was deep in conversation with a knight who had an arrow embedded in his helmet. Less easy to find was Ginny, who had apparently really needed the toilet.

"Do you know who that was?!" Hermione gushed as they left the dungeon-level room. "King Harold Godwinson! The last Anglo-Saxon King of England!"

Harry and Ron stared at her blankly, but Neville did a double take. "The guy with the arrow in his... How did I not see that?"

Luna was smiling absently off into space. Harry wasn't entirely sure why he had noticed - that was essentially her ground state.

"Who is this, exactly?" said Harry.

"You've heard of the Battle of Hastings?" said Hermione. "1066? The Norman Invasion?"

"It rings a bell..." Harry muttered, frowning.

"He's the one who was supposed to have died from an arrow in the eye?" Hermione pressed. "The Bayeux Tapestry?"

"Sounds familiar but I don't remember anything about it," said Harry, shrugging.

"How are you not excited about this?" said Hermione.

"I don't know if I can think about much other than food right now, to be honest," Harry grimaced.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.

And then Harry heard it.

 _"_ _... Rip... Tear... Kill..."_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard on his way up to the common room more than a month prior. It felt like yesterday. He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you – ?" said Neville.

"It's that voice again, shut up a minute..."

 _"_ _... soo hungry... for so long..."_

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and they all froze, watching him.

 _"_ _... Kill... Time to kill..."_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away – moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall.

It was no good hoping to hear anything here, with the babble of talk from the Halloween feast echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, the others hurrying along behind him.

"Harry, what're we –"

"SHH!" Harry strained his ears.

Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: _"... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!"_

His stomach lurched.

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry shouted, and ignoring Ron's, Neville's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps. Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, his friends panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything..."

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor. "Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering a dark, blood red in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing – hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

"We should leave this place," said Luna.

"You might be right," Hermione said. "This feels like a crime scene."

The girls went unheeded, however. As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped – there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Ron and Neville grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help –" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended.

"I didn't bring the cloak!" said Harry.

The anxious, urgent expression on Neville's face turned to resignation. "At least Ginny's puking her guts out somewhere."

From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people. In the next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends. The chatter, the bustle, the noise... it all died instantaneously as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. The five of them stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.


	30. 30 - Writing on the Wall

Harry glared at Malfoy, furious that not only had he allowed himself to be caught in such a situation against better counsel, but that the spoiled Slytherin brat was here to have his fun. Even as lightning fizzled in his hands, however, he knew there was nothing to be done. He'd lost this round. And more footsteps could be heard.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat!"

Harry backed off in the face of the spitting, raving caretaker, his hands up and open, entreating the man to return to his senses. Ron took Harry by the shoulder, seemingly moving to defend him, but before the situation could escalate...

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, young Gryffindors... Miss Lovegood."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs. Please feel free –"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. Ron was distracted by this even among the furor surrounding Mrs Norris. Seeing the disbelieving expression on his face, Harry gestured to him to wait, not wanting more attention drawn to them.

Dumbledore was examining the cat on the polished surface of Lockhart's desk. To Harry she seemed to be as dead as the dodo, but the caretaker's pet was curiously frozen. Perhaps it was rigor mortis?

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression. It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions the likes of which Harry could not possibly speak to their veracity. Professor McGonagall surely could, however, and from her expression of restrained contempt Harry felt assured in his presumptions.

The man was a complete tosspot.

While he made wild claims about Transmogrifian Tortures and his proficiency with counter-curses, Argus Filch was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. His dry, racking sobs punctuated each of Lockhart's self-important remarks. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.

Professor Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

Their illustrious professor of Defence was utterly oblivious as to the headmaster's progress. Harry felt his jaw clenching tighter as Lockhart began recounting a tale from his books as though this were a sales pitch rather than what was looking more and more like a forensic investigation. When he saw Hermione listening to the man with rapt attention, he felt like jumping in with the apparently sympathetic Ron and Neville and giving the professor a good kicking.

Luckily, before the boys could get too worked up, Professor Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs Norris. "But why's she all – all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say..."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced –"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I'm a – I'm a –" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"What on…" Harry began, utterly thrown by the notion that Filch's magical prowess could be at all relevant. "I haven't done anything to your cat. Why should your being a Squib or not mean anything to me?"

"You students are all the same!" snarled Filch. "Ungrateful little whelps! I bet you thought it would be mighty funny, eh? Who'll be laughing when you're rotting in the dungeons, eh?!"

Professor Dumbledore put a hand on Filch as he tried to leap at Harry, muttering something to the man under his breath. When he was done, Filch didn't so much as look at Harry, all but dissolving into tears as he backed away towards the wall.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows.

Harry's sense of foreboding increased. He was sure that nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," Snape said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. Luna looked at the fireplace with mild curiosity, while Professor Dumbledore seemed to regard Luna in a similar manner.

"... there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there –"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

"Because – because –" Harry said, his heart thumping very fast. Something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear. "Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We were planning on asking the twins to get us some food," said Neville.

Snape turned a dark look on the boy, who trembled slightly. Still, his Gryffindor strength held through. Neville met Snape's cold stare with a glorious defiance that made Harry feel truly proud.

"And where is the young Miss Weasley," said Snape, "who normally seems attached to you as if by elastic cord, Potter?"

"Throwing up in a toilet somewhere, Professor Snape," said Harry. "As you said, the dead don't have food fit for the living."

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being radiographed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

Snape looked furious.

So did Filch. "My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes red and wet. "I want to see some _punishment_!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep –"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe _I_ am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to the assembled students.

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces. "D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But – you must admit it's weird..."

"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'... What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..."

"It's a horror," said Neville. "A secret chamber Slytherin built before he left, holding a monster that waits to cleanse the school of all those who Slytherin deemed unworthy."

"That seems a bit extreme!" said Hermione. "These were children he'd looked after and taught for a good part of his life."

"It's a story, Hermione," said Neville. "Maybe he didn't intend to actually kill them. Maybe it's all made up."

"If it is, someone's planning to murder all the unworthy in Slytherin's name," Hermione murmured. "All the... Muggleborn..."

"You'll be fine, Hermione," said Neville.

"Yeah, we'll sort this out," said Ron.

"Nobody else is getting hurt if I can help it," said Harry.

"Thanks guys," said Hermione quietly. "We should look for Ginny."

"I think she's looking for us," said Harry.

At that moment, the door opened and in came Ginny, her bag clutched tightly to her side. "What's going on? What happened? I heard a bit of a commotion..."

"How did you find us?" said Hermione, frowning.

" _Point me, Harry_ ," said Ginny, her wand floating up in the air from her open palm and emitting its customary golden light. Harry's surprise and pride that she had planned an answer to that question drained as he noticed how pale she looked. "Now tell me what the hell happened."

"Mrs Norris got Petrified," said Harry.

Ginny trembled visibly. "You mean...?"

"Yeah, the long-term magical kind," said Neville. "They're sorting out a Mandrake draft, but I'd guess a few months before that's ready."

"Why don't they just order some in?" said Hermione. "Surely you can buy it?"

"Not cheaply," Neville shrugged.

Meanwhile, Ginny still looked utterly horrified. And to Harry's seventh sense, she was practically made of shock and anxiety.

"Ginny, Mrs Norris will be fine," said Hermione in a comforting tone, though she could not hide her bewilderment.

"I... Yeah," Ginny agreed. "So, what should we do? I'm pretty tired."

"Ask the twins for food," Ron said firmly.

None of them could find fault with this, so they hurried up towards the common room. Harry soon found himself losing interest in Ginny's state of mind, the ache of his empty stomach taking centre stage.

"So what was Filch on about back there?" said Neville as they closed on the Grand Staircase.

Ron snorted. "I'd forgotten about that. Explains a lot doesn't it?"

"He's bitter about being born without magic," said Neville.

"It seems rather cruel of the professors to have him keep the castle in order without magic," Hermione frowned.

"He's not the cleaner," said Neville. "He's just in charge of making sure everything that needs to be done gets done."

"So why's he always cleaning?" said Hermione.

"Something to complain about?" Harry shrugged. "I don't know why he doesn't quit."

"Yes you do," said Luna.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "he enjoys having something to complain about."

"Oh look, people are still outside," said Hermione.

Indeed, the Fat Lady's portrait was swung wide open as the legion of satisfied, yet unnerved students poured in. They followed after them, finding their targets ready and waiting.

"So," said Fred.

"What kind of trouble..." said George.

"Have you lot stirred up this term?" said Fred.

"The cat was Petrified," said Ron.

"Blimey," said Fred.

"That's not one you'll hear every day," said George.

"I'll be right back," said Ginny, rushing past her brothers and up the dormitory stairs.

"Guys, we're starving," said Ron.

"Get us some food and we'll tell you everything," said Harry.

"Hey Luna," said George.

"This is the wrong common room, by the way," said Fred.

Luna opened her mouth to answer, but Harry cut across. "Food."

"Fine, fine, our curiosity shall wait," said George.

"Bring a lot!" Neville called to their retreating backs. "Ron hasn't eaten since half one!"

"Hey, you alright?" said Dean.

Seamus frowned. "That was kinda creepy down there."

"Somebody Petrified Mrs Norris," said Hermione. "Nobody knows who or how."

Seamus's jaw dropped. "You're joking..."

By the time the twins returned, the whole common room was buzzing. People who'd gone to bed early had come back down to see what all the fuss was about.

Ginny had emerged from the girls' dormitories looking a little healthier, but little happier than when she'd gone up. Neville expressed concern that was brushed off before he could finish speaking; nobody mentioned anything after that.

"This way, midgets," said Fred, his head emerging from the portrait hole.

They followed the twins to an abandoned classroom. On a solitary clean table in the middle, the twins had provided enough pork chops, potatoes and buttered vegetables to feed a small village. Their rumbling, growling stomachs already had all the encouragement they needed without the sizeable chocolate fudge cake that made their mouths flood at merely the smells.

"So," said Fred, as everyone but Ron returned to a sociable rate of face-stuffing.

"What've you got for us?" said George.

Harry shared a look with the others (apart from Ron). "We were coming back from Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party..."

Five minutes later, the twins were shaking their heads.

"You've had a rough evening, guys," said George.

"That voice..." Fred muttered.

"Creepy," said George.

"Weird," said Fred.

"Probably good you didn't mention it to the professors," said George.

"But if anyone could've explained it..." said Fred.

"It's Dumbledore," George sighed.

"I don't want him to think I'm mad!" said Harry.

George nodded, chewing contemplatively on some fudge. "But if that voice was serious..."

"And poor Mrs Norris will vouch for it," said Fred.

Ginny, who'd turned pale again through the retelling of the story, began to tremble. Harry took her hand, and she looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

 ** _'_** ** _We've fought off Voldemort,'_** said Harry. **_'We'll be okay.'_**

Ginny said nothing, and Harry understood what was left unspoken. Their safety was all well and good. But who was next, after Mrs Norris?

"We might have bigger problems soon," said Neville. "The professors saw the writing on the wall. They'll know about the Chamber of Secrets. If someone with the power and the will to start Petrifying is doing it in the name of Slytherin and his Chamber, the school is in big trouble."

"So you think it'll get shut down?" said Hermione.

"If this happens to a student?" said Harry. "I hope so."

* * *

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."

Ginny, who had seemed rather affected on the night itself, was slowly recovering to her prior, abnormally reclusive self. Though she was fond of animals, and cats in particular, Harry was sure there was more to it than that. And yet, he couldn't help but feel that pursuing the issue wasn't really worth it. He wasn't the only one who had noticed, however, and it wasn't just Luna who was being brought down by Ginny's low mood anymore.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Ever since Neville's mention of the Chamber of Secrets, she'd been working feverishly to learn more of the tale, without a shred of success. Harry also suspected it was part of an effort to spend less time with the new Ginny, but he was wise enough not to accuse her. In fact, he rather sympathised. The negative mess of emotions Harry was washed with whenever he touched Ginny, let alone kissed her (not that there had been much of that lately), was really starting to work at him. He'd even started trying to stifle their bond.

One particularly poor Tuesday morning, Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried lunch, he went upstairs to meet Neville in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming towards him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry found Neville at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three foot long composition on 'The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards'.

"An inch over," said Neville with a dignified level of satisfaction. "Hermione's essay is nearly as tall as me..."

"Of course," Harry grinned, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework. "Where is she?"

"Somewhere over there," said Neville, pointing along the shelves. "She's looking for another book. Sometimes I wonder why she even bothers attending classes. And then I remember..."

"She's Hermione," Harry snorted. "Do you think this is another Chamber hunt?"

"Probably," Neville shrugged. "There's no discouraging her. I even showed her the letter from my gran telling me all she remembered of it."

Finding his own essay comfortably over requirements, Harry told Neville about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

"Oh," said Neville, putting his parchment away and turning to face Harry. "That is a bit odd. You don't think he thinks you're –"

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked a particular kind of irritable that made them both shut their mouths and sit rather still.

"All the copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Neville. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

"Everyone's thinking the same as you," Neville sighed.

"Apparently," said Hermione. "This is so infuriating."

"Not knowing?" said Neville. "Or feeling like you don't know?"

Hermione looked at him contemplatively for a moment. "I don't know."

And then Hermione's lips curled upwards, and she rolled her eyes, looking away.

"So I heard your essay is taller than Nev," Harry grinned.

They arrived at the History of Magic classroom with slowly dampening spirits at the prospect of an hour with the endlessly droning ghost. By five minutes in, Harry was settling into a depressed stupor. He was just dropping off when he heard a faint rustling to his right. Suddenly curious as to whether Hermione had finally succumbed to the soporific power of Professor Binns' voice, Harry turned to look at her.

Hermione had raised her hand.

The gravity of such a moment was not lost on Harry, and he shook off his weariness as best he could to watch. Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss... err...?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers –"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, that Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale –"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns' every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Without a doubt, this was the most attention he'd ever received from his students.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets...

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago – the precise date is uncertain – by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips such that he looked remarkably like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns' classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air. "Sir – what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing –"

"He makes a good point, professor," said Ginny. "Blood wards are powerful things, are they not?"

"Of course, Weasley," said Professor Binns, causing further ripples for apparently recognising Ginny. "But the wards would be centuries old, and the most powerful and learned wizards since have found no trace..."

"Salazar Slytherin was renowned for his cunning as well as his power," said Ginny. Harry frowned. "Surely, as a learned man, you would not be so quick to dismiss the idea?"

"There is no purpose to worrying about such things," said Professor Binns with an air of finality.

"Not for you, of course," said Ginny. And Harry could not decide whether that was said with trepidation or anticipation.

Binns did not hear, however, already returning to full lecture mode. For the rest of the class, that was irrelevant. They had their answer.

* * *

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Harry, Neville and Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. Ginny had gone to meet Luna first. "A monster to 'purge' the school? I wouldn't be in his House if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home..."

Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry didn't say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly. Harry had never mentioned how the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he'd placed the hat on his head a year before:

 _You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that..._

"... thought I understood, you know?" Harry heard Neville saying as he returned to the present. "That he wanted to get rid of the Muggle-born because he was worried. We get told about witch hunts and people being burned at the stake when we're little - horror stories to make us behave ourselves."

Hermione looked a little pained. "Yeah..."

"This, though?" said Neville. "I bet he left so the others wouldn't kill him. He must have gone mad in his old age."

"Watch it!" Ron grunted as he was knocked aside for the millionth time on their way to the seventh floor.

Bouncing along behind the rowdy group of sixth years (who entirely ignored Ron) was Colin Creevey.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry automatically.

"Harry – Harry – a boy in my class has been saying you're –" But Colin was so small he couldn't fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wondered.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," said Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so as he suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.

"Don't worry about it," said Neville. "They'll believe whatever they want."

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be... well – human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"What sorts of monsters just Petrify their victims?" said Neville. "Seems too clean."

"Binns said the heir controls it, didn't he?" said Ron.

"Possession?" Hermione asked.

"Possibly," Neville muttered.

"Bloody hell..." said Ron. "Nothing good _ever_ happens when someone's getting possessed."

"This will work out," said Neville firmly. "Nobody will be purged on Professor Dumbledore's watch."

"Scorch marks!" said Harry. "Here... and here."

The dark streaks on the wall and floor were more than just charred stone. Something hot had blasted a bit of the material away.

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny. . . ."

Harry stood up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

Neville shook his head, staring in bewilderment.

"No," said Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"Oh come on, Ron," said Harry. "They're moving _away_ from you. You're fine."

"Sure," Ron said, taking a step back and looking frantically around before returning his eyes to the spiders on the wall.

Neville seemed to take pity, nudging Ron and putting himself between the redhead and a sniggering Hermione. "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

And ignoring the large out of order sign, she opened the door. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

The boys went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking at a spot on her chin.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron, Neville and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how – er – nice it is in here."

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.

"Say, err, Myrtle right?" said Harry. The ghost smiled shyly. "There was an attack outside here a few days ago, on Halloween. You didn't see or hear anything, did you?"

"No, I didn't," said Myrtle wistfully. "After Peeves left Sir Nicholas's party, nobody was there to tease me. So, I stayed to watch the Headless Hunt and came back quite late. The portraits were quite frantic, though. Apparently a cat died."

Myrtle seemed a bit too enthusiastic about Mrs Norris for Harry's liking, but he thanked her and bade her farewell. He was just leaving when a thought struck him.

"Sorry, Myrtle," said Harry, "the night of the attack, there was a lot of water on the ground outside?"

Myrtle's cheeks darkened slightly, and she averted her eyes. "I... I like to spend time in the u-bend. It... splashes. A lot. It's not weird!"

"Thanks again, Myrtle," said Harry. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime," she said, fiddling absently with the end of her tie.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hermione gave a heavy sigh. "Spend time in the u-bend... Honestly, you're the first person I've seen her hold a civil conversation with, Harry. She spends time in the u-bend because she takes people breathing wrong as an insult, throws a tantrum and then dive bombs the nearest toilet."

Ron snickered quietly.

"Why in Merlin's name is she haunting a toilet?" said Neville.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe Harry could ask her. I don't know and I don't care."

"Hermione, why were they in a girls' bathroom?" said Percy.

They stopped short, not having seen him approach.

"Err..." Hermione said, her brain rewiring itself. "We were looking for clues."

"Don't you think the detective work is better left to the staff?" said Percy. "You know, people with the resources available to them to make a proper investigation?"

"I..." said Hermione, obviously unwilling to criticise the professors even indirectly.

"We're not getting in the way," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Neville. "Maybe we'll find something they missed and we can tell them."

Percy looked around at them critically. "I should really take points for finding you coming out of there. But with current circumstances... Fine. But don't let me catch you breaking any more school rules to play sleuth."

"What's a sleuth?" said Ron.

"Where is Ginny, by the way?" said Percy. "Nine times out of ten I could count on her to be with you lot last year."

"She is behaving quite strangely," said Hermione. "Has been for a while. Only, she won't talk to me about it at all."

Percy sighed. "Perhaps I should mention it to mother. She can talk to her over the holiday or something. Anyway, good evening."

And with that, he turned away and left them standing there.

"Huh," said Neville. "I really thought he'd take points."

* * *

The Ginny they ate with that night was definitely better settled. She wasn't quite so pale as she had been, and seemed more at ease.

 _'_ _Perhaps Luna calmed her down, somehow,'_ Harry mused.

Whatever the reasons, she was far more pleasant company. They were all sat or knelt around a table in the common room, doing various essays. Harry was just putting the finishing touches to his Charms homework when he realised that it had been at least a month since he and Ginny had so much as held hands, let alone kissed. He missed her. It was like an ache inside of him; they'd lost their closeness, not from a breakup or argument - they'd simply drifted apart.

Harry frowned, staring now across the table at his girlfriend. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that there was simply no sense to it. They had too much in common, enjoyed each other's company too much...

Ron slammed his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ shut with a sigh of relief. Hermione followed suit, and Harry was so surprised that she would stop working before she filled three rolls of parchment that he lost track of his prior thought process entirely.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced. "If you're talking about Malfoy –"

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him – 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' – come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him..."

Neville snorted with laughter. Even Ginny broke into a little grin. Harry saw precious few of those lately...

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Hermione skeptically.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"Doubt it," Neville frowned. "I'm pretty sure there was a family who were held as the last claimants to the Slytherin seat and titles, but they died out. I'm sure of it."

"Why didn't we look into this?" said Hermione.

"Because it's hopeless," said Ginny. "The family was the Gaunts, and they did die out. So we're back to square one."

"Maybe someone inherited quietly," said Neville.

"Then we're pretty unlikely to find out about it," Ginny said derisively.

"Alright, alright," said Neville.

"Come on, we've got Hermione," said Ron. "She can find out about anything."

Hermione blushed slightly. "Thanks, but Ginny might be right. Figuring out who opened the Chamber will be difficult enough if they're a student. They might have sneaked in and started hiding out in the Chamber or something."

"So what, we do nothing?" said Harry, abhorred.

"There's nothing we can do that the professors can't," Hermione pointed out.

"That was true last year," said Harry.

Hermione sighed. "And you almost died. You-Know-Who would still be staring at that mirror if we hadn't gone down that trapdoor."

Harry gritted his teeth, ready to bite back. But as he looked into Hermione's eyes, he saw no rancour or spite. He saw only pain. "Hermione, I'm..."

Turning very pink, Hermione averted her eyes, looking vaguely at the carpet. Ron and Neville were watching proceedings with some concern.

"... sorry," Harry finished lamely. "What do you think we should do then?"

"Figure out what the monster is," said Neville with absolute certainty.

Hermione nodded. "We've got a very specific ability. Beasts that Petrify their prey can't be all that common."

"And it might be quite long lived," said Neville. "Some sort of stasis prison is possible, I suppose, but it might help us narrow down the possibilities."

"What are the chances he went for a dirty great snake?" said Ron.

"The basilisk..." said Neville. "King of the serpents. Fitting, I guess, but I thought they killed everything they looked at or something."

"I'll write it down," said Hermione. "Seems a bit obvious that he'd use a snake though."

"Library tomorrow then," said Harry.

Ron stood up. "Tonight, bed!"


	31. 31 - The Rogue Bludger

_A/N: I am so sorry for the delay, I've been up to my eyeballs with medical school end-of-years. Review replies at the end. Thank you to those who do :)_

Though Professor Lockhart was still apparently disinclined to use live creatures, he was finding fresh new ways to chase Voldemort on Harry's 'to kill' list. His recollections had evolved from simple storytelling to a far uglier and less appetising format. Lockhart had started making people act out passages from his books. And his target was, more often than not, Harry.

So far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. By this point, he was quite ready to tell the man exactly where he could stuff his books. He'd yet to learn a single useful thing in Lockhart's classes beyond 'Gilderoy Lockhart is an idiot', which he could have guessed beforehand. As such, Lockhart was giving Harry a worse education than a man possessed by Voldemort himself.

Unfortunately, Lockhart was a professor, and neither his Head of House nor the Headmaster were likely to look kindly on Harry assaulting the man. So he bit his tongue and played his part in the ridiculous fairy-tale as he always did. Neville's half-sincere look of sympathy helped more than Ron's barely controlled laughter, but as Lockhart held him down and had him moan out loud, even Harry had to see the funny side.

He was less amused to be set yet another homework on Lockhart's illustrious past. Still, he imagined that a detention with the man would lead anyone to suicide; at least, anyone besides Hermione.

"Back to the library?" said Hermione.

"Why?" said Ron. "You've got everything you need for the essay in your Lockhart shrine."

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione, turning very pink.

"Wait, you've actually got one?" Ron laughed.

"I'm surprised you even know what a..."

Harry and Neville shared a tired look. The walk to the library was every bit as tedious as they'd expected. And unfortunately, the search for Slytherin's monster was proving a long and difficult one. The strange thing was, Harry was sure they'd had some good leads, but it was as though they were false... like dreams.

* * *

Harry jerked awake, his body tingling with the adrenaline flooding his veins. It was the familiar sensation of knowing that he would soon be tested to the very limits of his physical capability, and eighty of his housemates were all counting on him to be faster, smarter and stronger than his opponent. It brought a small, anticipatory smirk to his lips to think that today, that opponent would be Draco Malfoy.

Slytherin might have been mounted on daddy's Nimbus Two Thousand And Ones, but all that power was useless in the wrong hands. And from what Harry had seen of Draco in first year's flying lessons, he was quite sure the boy would be reigning in that big broomstick so as not to risk unseating himself. Or — Harry's smirk grew more pronounced — he would become quite well acquainted with the grass.

Getting up and dressing even as the rest of his dormitory continued to snore, Harry stared at himself in the mirror. Compared with the pampered prince he was up against, he had become quite the machine in the last year or so. He might not be huge, but that would only get in his way as a Seeker. Harry stretched each and every one of his lean, powerful muscles on the way downstairs, easing out every kink. He didn't just want to beat Malfoy. After the stunts he had pulled kitting out the Slytherins and abusing Hermione, Harry wanted to humiliate him.

Wood was already at the table when Harry arrived, and the rest of the team were there soon after.

"Chin up," Harry grinned, looking at Alicia and Angelina's expressions of unsmiling apprehension. "A good broom doesn't make a good player. They've got an advantage, sure, but the brooms are going to cause as many problems as they solve."

"The twins saw them flying," said Wood. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Harry…"

"They saw them flying fast," said Harry. "But Hermione could fly fast on a Nimbus Two Thousand And One. It's a lot harder to co-ordinate plays at a hundred and twenty miles an hour."

The girls perked up a little at that, but looked almost cautious of becoming overly hopeful.

"And who're the best playmakers at Hogwarts?" Harry smirked.

"Oh stop it, Harry," Angelina laughed. "We're blushing."

"Can't you tell?" said Alicia.

"Oh, the race jokes are coming out again…" Oliver sighed, but he was smiling himself. The tension was broken.

As the rest of the team arrived, their own low moods wore away with the rising spirits of those who had arrived before them. Thus, the rest of Gryffindor entered the Great Hall to find their Quidditch team laughing and joking in a manner they were entirely unaccustomed to on match day.

"So we soaked some tissues with yoghurt…" said Fred.

"Eww!" Katie squealed.

"That's pretty gross," Harry laughed.

"Hey," said George. "There's only so much a Silencing Charm can block out!"

Angelina had dissolved into giggles, and though she seemed to be attempting words nothing was intelligible.

"Who was it?" said Katie.

"We would never divulge the identities of our victims," said Fred with mock-outrage.

"Unwitting participants," George corrected.

"You two are actually terrible," said Wood.

Alicia's head was in her hands. "The worst."

"Quidditch!" said Harry.

His friends all wished him luck as he passed, and Harry would have felt ready to catch the Snitch from the ground if it weren't for one thing. Ginny seemed almost entirely disengaged. Hermione nudged her, and she gave him a smile and a wave, but the sentiment did not reach her eyes. It was as if she wasn't quite with them. But then Angelina made a comment about how much time Malfoy spent polishing his broomstick and none of that mattered anymore.

The typical hisses from the Slytherins and raucous cheers from the rest of the school chased the Gryffindor team out into the dark November morning. Heavy clouds were swirling overhead, with the occasional distant flash on the horizon just barely lighting their faces. A particularly deep thundercrack made Alicia swallow the end of her word, and Harry wondered if lightning might interrupt the game. A small, vindictive part of him rather wished that it would.

As it was, it seemed too far away to interrupt more than conversation, which remained lively all the way to the locker rooms, where they happily changed into their snug Quidditch leathers.

"I think my uniform is still wet from practise," said George.

"I can dry you off if you like," said Harry, summoning forth a little burst of lightning to his fingertips.

George backed off rapidly while the rest of the team sniggered. "You know, I think I like the damp. Never had a good match without a few sniffles."

"How do you do that, Harry?" said Katie, watching his hand with amusement as the lightning fizzled out.

"I honestly have no idea," Harry shrugged.

"If it's wandless magic, then that's pretty awesome," said Alicia.

Angelina grinned at him. "The girlfriend been teaching you a few _tricks_?"

Harry frowned slightly at the mention of Ginny, but forgot his concern and shrugged it off. "We've all got our talents."

"Right team," said Wood. "Enough of the chitter chatter."

"Ooh, yes captain," said Fred, sitting attentively with his legs together and his hands on his knees.

Alicia threw a glove at him, giggling.

"Thank you, Weasley," said Wood. "You can show the team fifty of your excellent pushups when we win."

Fred batted his eyelashes at Oliver, giving him a simpering little smile.

"Do you want to make it a hundred?" Wood smirked.

The freckled Beater stuck his tongue out and relented, receiving Alicia's other glove for his trouble.

"Right," said Wood. "Slytherin has better brooms than us. No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers..."

"Too true," muttered George. "I haven't been properly dry since August"

"And we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry amidst the cheers of his team. "It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him.

Harry answered his captain with a determined look. He would not fail.

As they walked out onto the field, a roar of noise greeted them. Madam Hooch asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

"All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed, jerking sideways and narrowly avoiding a heavy black Bludger. The enchanted iron came so close that it ruffled his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin.

Harry felt a kind of grim satisfaction as he took a moment to watch George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey. He had just turned to return to overwatch when he noticed a movement through the corner of his eye. The Bludger had changed direction entirely of its own accord, shooting straight for Harry again. Releasing the footrests, Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy.

Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. A sense of dread filled Harry. Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible...

Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might. A solid clunk and a "Gotcha!" made Harry believe that his troubles were over. He was wrong. As though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain. Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan say, "Slytherin lead, thirty points to ten..."

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, though his teammates seemed to be clinging on somehow. Meanwhile, the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's – tampered – with – this – Bludger –" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

"What's wrong with you two?" said Oliver, annoyed. "Can you not hit the damn thing hard enough to get it away from Harry's face? The girls are getting slaughtered out there."

The twins didn't even bother saying anything.

"How could they have tampered with the Bludger?" Wood muttered. "It's been locked in Madam Hooch's office..."

The woman herself was walking over to them, and Harry could see the Slytherin team pointing and jeering over her shoulder.

"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry…"

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "'Get the Snitch or die trying', what a stupid thing to tell him!"

Madam Hooch had joined them. "I presume this is about the erratic behaviour of that Bludger?"

Wood hesitated, but nodded.

"I'm not quite happy to put it down to a hex yet," said Madam Hooch. "After last year, however, I should hardly be surprised. If it hasn't chased another target in the next five minutes I'll call a stop to the game while we investigate."

"Thank you, Madam Hooch," said Wood. He looked at the determined look on Harry's face. "We're ready to go. Fred, George, you heard Harry – leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiralled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open.

Rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, pirouetting and dancing around to avoid his tormentor.

Kicking out against one footrest, Harry span the broom on its axis, leaving him practically standing in midair, watching the iron ball accelerate towards him.

"Enough!" Harry yelled.

There was a sound like a bomb going off as he unleashed a blast of blue lightning at the Bludger. Unfortunately, though it hesitated at first, it only seemed more energetic in its pursuit of him, and it took everything Harry had to evade its charge. He almost found himself wishing for a Nimbus 2001 to make it a little easier to keep away from the offending ball.

 ** _'_** ** _Sorry,'_** Harry said, feeling his broomstick hum in sympathy.

He knew he could always trust his Nimbus. It knew him as well as anyone else — like his wand, it was a part of him. And as the Bludger bore down upon him, it gave him everything it had.

 ** _'_** ** _Cross your fingers.'_**

Taking a controlled breath, Harry careened to the side, pretending to have seen something. Malfoy apparently fell for the bait, for there was a rushing sound as the 2001 hastened to catch up. Seeing the gap at the edge of the pitch, Harry rolled his broom sharply around the lip, hearing a satisfying thud as the Bludger smashed into the ground behind him. More satisfying was the shriek as Malfoy narrowly avoided a clean knockout from the resurgent Bludger.

Harry had bigger problems. He had been here before, dodging and weaving between the numerous support pillars of the stadium, but it was no easy task at passing one hundred miles per hour. Hearing the enchanted iron smashing through the pillars that he had so deftly been slaloming around, he knew that there was more reason than just the Snitch to leave this maze behind.

Finding the angle, Harry slingshotted around a diagonal beam, propelling himself into the now torrential rain with a desperate hope to find the telltale glint of gold. A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.

But there was a murmur, rising in volume now so that even Harry could hear it. The crowd was beginning to notice as well.

"Stop the game!" Neville cried.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him.

"Stop looking at my arse, Malfoy," Harry called, irritated by his trials. The sheer concentration of high speed manoeuvres he was being forced into was starting to make his stomach feel rather unstable...

And then, as he turned to see the effect of his words, he saw it – the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear. In other circumstances, Harry might have been more moved by Malfoy's snarling through his tears, a gash in the blond's cheek by which to remember his journey through the pitch's foundations. But Malfoy had evidently not seen his prize. For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

 _Danger._

Harry knew it was too late the moment his mind exploded with panic. His eye just caught the slightest glimpse of dark grey...

WHAM.

There was a scream from the crowd. It might have been one person or a hundred; all Harry knew was the pain as he felt bone break and tear through muscle. He couldn't summon the breath to scream. Around him, the world darkened as he clung to his broomstick, shaking and insensate.

Fear pulsed through to him from Ginny, and he knew the Bludger was coming back around. For the briefest of moments, Harry considered letting it hit him. His arm was hanging uselessly at his side, consuming him with such pain that he could barely stay conscious. It would hurt so much to try, why not...

" _No!_ " Harry ground out through his teeth, flattening himself to his Nimbus and throwing them forwards as fast as he could. The broomstick murmured reassuringly, but Harry had only one thought he held onto: get to Malfoy.

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him. Lightning crackled spasmodically around his body, arcing out through the water towards the Bludger, the Snitch and, ironically, Malfoy.

"What the –" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.

He was just barely fast enough, as a surge of pain made Harry explode with blue fury. Both balls lost all powers of locomotion. The Bludger made a graceful arc as it encountered gravity, but the Snitch remained, frozen in place by sheer force of Harry's will.

The youngest Seeker in a century took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out. With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle. Riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. Harry focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.

"Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won."

And he fainted.

Harry came around to the feeling of rain falling on his face, still lying on the pitch, with a shadow leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

"Oh, no, not you," he moaned.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..."

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times."

"Let me just go to the hospital wing!" said Harry through clenched teeth.

"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular. I don't know what in Merlin's name you did up there but it made for an excellent show, and Hooch won't hear anything of foul play because you spent the whole game dodging the same Bludger. Great job!"

Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George, giving the rogue Bludger rather violent treatment as they returned it to its box. It was just starting to recover, twitching feebly under their ministrations.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"No…" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was already twirling his wand. A faint pulse of energy burst forth from Harry, but it was lost to the winds, and a second later Lockhart had his wand trained directly at Harry's arm.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn't hurt anymore… nor did it feel remotely like an arm.

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing. Ah, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, would you escort him? And Madam Pomfrey will be able to, err… tidy you up a bit."

As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again. Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.

Ron found his predicament hilarious. Madam Pomfrey was rather less pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm.

"Believe me, Madam Pomfrey," Harry sighed, "I was insisting on it."

The healer sighed, holding his hand a little more tenderly. "I can mend bones in a second, but growing them back..."

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. "You'll have to stay the night..."

Everyone waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ron helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

Harry didn't even bother to dignify it with a response. Ginny on the other hand, made a rather disparaging face at the back of Hermione's head as Madam Pomfrey drew back the curtain. The healer was holding a large bottle of something labelled Skele-Gro.

"You're in for a rough night," Madam Pomfrey said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey did her best to ease him through it, rubbing his back in slow circles. This did nothing to soothe Harry's desire to liquefy the bones of Lockhart's face.

"We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face... he looked ready to kill..."

"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly.

"Especially with Professor Lockhart looking on," said Luna. Harry may have been curious about her decision to come, seeing as he generally felt she hung out with them more for Ginny than anyone else, but he was certainly grateful. Ginny herself was holding back a pronounced smirk, while Neville was just barely containing his own mirth.

Just then, the door of the hospital wing burst open. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. But just as Harry was about to respond, Madam Pomfrey turned unforgiving eyes on the team.

"Ah!" she said in a warning tone.

All six stopped dead in their tracks.

"This boy has thirty bones to regrow," said Madam Pomfrey dangerously. "Ignoring the filth you are spreading through a _medical_ facility, what in Merlin's name makes you think I'll let you interrupt the rest he needs?"

Wood just stared at her, a cake in one hand and a case of what was supposedly butterbeer in the other. Meanwhile, Alicia whipped out her wand and hastily began scouring every last one of them with meticulous attention to detail. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the twins had lost a couple of freckles.

"Good girl," said Madam Pomfrey. Her mouth was still set in a hard frown, but Harry could see the amusement in her eyes. "Now clean the floor as well and perhaps you can leave without detention."

"Madam Pomfrey, he's lost all the bones in his arm," said George.

"Surely he could use a bit of good cheer?" said Fred.

"And food," said Katie hopefully past a pile of assorted sweets and small cakes.

"I believe his friends here were providing the former, at least," said Madam Pomfrey drily.

"Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey," said Harry, grinning.

She turned a dark look on him. "One hour. Else I'll have you strapped to the bed until you're healed."

Harry woke much later, surrounded by evidence of the good time he'd had. However, before he could happily reminisce, he gave a yelp of pain. Lightning crackled and spat in little jumps down his forearms and into the bed frame. His arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a great feeling of shock, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

"Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"

The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why can't you see? It is too dangerous here for Harry Potter, this year more than ever."

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away. "What're you doing here?" he said.

"Dobby came to try one last time, sir," said Dobby. "Dobby didn't realise how powerful Miss Wheezy could be. Everything has gone wrong... Harry Potter is too close to the threat..."

In a flash, Harry's left hand was at Dobby's throat. The house-elf's head had only had a chance to twitch in the direction of the bedside table. "Don't you start. Can we get through this conversation without you trying to punish yourself?"

Dobby's lip trembled, but he nodded tremulously.

"Good," said Harry. "Now, start from the beginning. What's gone…?"

Looking at the fearful, sorrowful expression on Dobby's face, Harry was struck by a terrible thought.

"That was you!" Harry hissed. "You messed with the Bludger! That's why you're here, you feel guilty!"

Dobby hung his head.

"That thing could've killed me," Harry spat. Somehow he struggled to put any venom in his words.

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

Harry gaped at the little elf. "I don't suppose you're going to let me in on how I'd survive being broken into pieces?"

"Dobby is a house-elf," said Dobby.

"Oh, well, thank you," said Harry. "That clears that right up, I had no idea."

Dobby just blinked at him slowly. Perhaps house-elves didn't quite understand sarcasm.

"Go on," Harry muttered. "What else have you done?"

Dobby looked rather like he wanted to bolt straight out of the infirmary, but he swallowed thickly and looked down at the bed. "Dobby was being at Platform Nine and Three Quarters this year, Harry Potter, sir…"

"Ginny was more powerful than you thought," Harry muttered. "You made that barrier."

Dobby nodded. "When Dobby couldn't be getting you alone, Dobby started getting desperate, sir. Dobby would have been trying to stop the train, but Dobby's master was calling him."

Harry sighed. The poor thing was truly insane. "Why are you doing all of this, Dobby?"

"Dobby knows, sir," said Dobby sniffed. "Dobby knows Harry Potter is not understanding. If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world!"

Tears began to pour from Dobby's huge green eyes,, building slowly to a torrent. "Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more –"

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby..."

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And – did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug.

"But I'm not Muggle-born – how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen – go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous –"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry growled. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened –"

"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not –"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified.

There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight.

Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

 ** _'_** ** _Him?'_** Harry thought, suddenly very anxious. Had the monster attacked a student? He slowly leaned up onto his elbow, feeling a growing sense of dread at what he might see.

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

Harry's heart dropped from his mouth straight down to his stomach. "No..."

Within he was screaming, but his throat was constricted so badly he could hardly breathe, let alone talk. Had Neville or Ron been Petrified? Or worse...

When Harry was turned over enough to see the statue laid out on the hospital bed, he almost fell straight back down. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face. It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate – who knows what might have –"

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.

"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted..."

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth.

Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. "But, Albus... surely... who?"

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how..."

And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.

Guest: Everyone should find Harry and Ginny's relationship strange. If something seems out of place it is more than likely important to the plot :)

Stars90: Thank you!

Gin110881: I'm not sure about Fictionhunt, but I think the problem might be that it's listed as a crossover? The searches seem separate. I don't want to deceive people into thinking it's a pure HP fanfiction, no matter how HP-centric it is :)

tpx1: Thanks!

Darth Trayus: The pacing problems do stem largely from my having started this when I was 12/13. For this volume, concluding with the end of second year, I'm going to be true to what my childhood self envisioned, but beyond that I plan on crafting a tighter experience. Insofar as the crossover listing is concerned, I didn't want to violate the terms of the site, and as I can't list the last few chapters of the story as a crossover, I thought it less risky to just list the whole thing as a crossover. That might be poor judgment on my part but what is done is done I suppose. Thanks for reviewing :)


	32. 32 - The Duelling Club

Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the infirmary blazing with winter sunlight, and his arm reboned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.

"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff," Harry confessed.

Madam Pomfrey coughed slightly, but carried on with barely a hint of a smirk. "You're making good progress. I should expect your arm to be good as new by the time you finish eating."

"So sometime after Christmas," Harry said, only half joking.

"I'd better not see you in here again this term, young man," Madam Pomfrey huffed.

"I won't make any promises," Harry smiled.

"If only I could take that as a joke," said Madam Pomfrey. Harry was sure she was concealing a smile, though. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."

Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell the others about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether he had his bones back or not.

As Harry passed the library, Percy strolled out of it, looking really rather pleased.

"Oh, hello, Harry," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Those fifty points gave Gryffindor the lead for the House Cup!"

"And that's why you're so happy?" Harry asked.

"What?" said Percy, looking more than a little bit too taken aback. "Of course! How's your arm?"

Percy was apparently not the most accomplished of liars, but Harry decided not to press him on it.

"Fine, thanks," Harry said. "Have you seen Ron or the others?"

"No, I haven't," said Percy. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet."

Harry sniggered. "Not without permission, I'm sure."

"I do hope you're not holding your breath," Percy said, smirking slightly as he turned to leave. "Well enjoy everyone's gratitude. I'd best see to my duties."

"See you, Perce," said Harry, waving after him and feeling only a slightly uncomfortable twinge from his healed right arm. Magic truly could do incredible things.

Something told Harry to head downstairs, and before long he found himself standing outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry frowned, staring blankly at the door and wondering what could possibly have brought him here. Then he had the realisation that he could sense Ginny's presence within. Shaking his head free of the apparent cobwebs, Harry entered to the sound of a hurriedly shut cubicle door.

"It's me," said Harry.

"Oh," said Neville. "How'd you...?"

Harry shrugged. "If you were doing something, I figured this would be a good place to check. So what's happened?"

"We decided we don't have enough information," said Hermione.

"We certainly don't have a great deal of time," said Ginny.

Ron poked his head out from behind Neville. "So we're going to dig around in the Slytherin common room."

"Why not just use the invisibility cloak again?" said Harry.

Luna appeared from Ginny and Hermione's cubicle, and Harry knew for sure that he'd said something stupid. He also became very confused as to exactly how large the girls' cubicles were.

"Far too risky," Hermione sighed. "At peak hours the chances of being discovered would be intolerable. And we could spend days skulking around there just from 11 until 5 in the morning without hearing anything of note."

"The point is, with a good enough disguise, we can get in there, get people talking about the Chamber and wait," said Neville. "So we've been trying to sort that out. How's the arm?"

"It's fine," said Harry. "What's the disguise?"

"This bit you'll like," Ron grinned.

"Or not," said Neville. "Depends how much we tell you."

"And I was only just put back together," Harry sighed. "Anyway, there's something you'll all want to know. The Chamber has been opened before."

Ginny raised a curious eyebrow. Hermione's mouth fell open. "What?"

"If it does turn out to be Malfoy I want you all to know that I bloody well called it," Ron griped. "Bet his father passed down the key or something..."

"How do you know, anyway?" said Neville.

"Got a visit from Dobby last night," Harry grimaced. "Turns out a Bludger is his way of trying to make me go home and be safe."

Ron snorted, while Hermione looked even more horrified than before.

"Tell you what mate," said Ron. "If that elf doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."

* * *

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion.

The first years were moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone. Ginny was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares. Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school.

"There's a fifth year trying to sell people a big onion," Neville said one day, exasperated, as he sat down in the common room. "Worse, I think a couple of people were tempted."

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. The five young Gryffindors all signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious.

Harry really thought that Ginny should have taken a break from Hogwarts, an opinion he was sure was becoming quite commonplace. However, seeing as neither he nor Ron was likely to turn down the opportunity to find out what was going on with the Chamber, it might have been quite difficult to convince her to return to the Burrow alone. Besides, he reasoned, here she had her friends to keep an eye on her.

Luckily for them, several Slytherins also seemed to want to enjoy the Scottish winter. It was hardly typical for them to want to see many Slytherins at all, but the prevalence of snakes over Christmas would be uniquely useful for their plans. For the disguise the Gryffindors were brewing was a Polyjuice Potion, a concoction which Hermione had heard Professor Snape mention in a lecture. The potion would allow the user an hour of complete resemblance to a person of their choice. It was perfect, in fact, apart from one small detail. Much to their disgust, they would need to add a part of their target person to the potion, which, according to their current plan, meant ingesting parts of such appetising individuals as Crabbe and Goyle. Ron had suggested that the girls simply switch places with Ginny's Slytherin friends, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, but Hermione had insisted they choose targets who were close to Malfoy. They would need him to be comfortable enough to confess.

The potion itself was still only half finished, bubbling away in the girls' bathroom. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape's private stores. Harry privately felt he'd rather face Slytherin's legendary monster than let Snape catch him robbing his office.

"What we need," said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need."

Harry and Ron looked at her nervously. "I think I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "Out of the lot of us, I'm the least likely to get into serious trouble."

Harry smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

"Why not just mail order them?" said Neville. "Hedwig is a fast owl. We could have it in days!"

"I like this idea," said Harry.

"There is definitely less Snape in this idea," Ron agreed.

Hermione, however, looked almost disappointed as she nodded.

"Don't tell me..." Harry laughed. "You were looking forward to it!"

"Professor Snape is horrible to all of us," said Hermione.

Such a pronouncement was enough to draw a surprised laugh from Ron, but Harry had a niggling feeling... "It's a little more than that, though, isn't it? I think our Hermione's gotten a little taste for breaking the rules."

That got a round of laughter.

"Oh shut up, the lot of you," Hermione said, rather more vexed than Harry would have expected. "Who's going to pay for the ingredients?"

That did shut everyone up.

"We'll all pay," said Ron uneasily.

"Harry has to make the order, though," said Neville. "They might turn us down otherwise, say we're too young to buy this stuff."

Harry couldn't imagine that Neville would run into problems, being heir to an old and respected family. Then again, Neville's argument has obvious merit with the added weight of Harry's name. At least the attention it brought him was good for something.

As they filed into the classroom, Harry felt rather glad that they didn't have the added pressure of making a run on Snape's stores. Potions was a difficult enough class to deal with in the first place. They were working on Swelling Solution today, and Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while his Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy kept flicking pufferfish eyes at Ginny and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say "Unfair."

Not that that would have stopped them usually. However, as Harry ground down their nettles and eyes, he contemplated how little Ginny had said that day. She'd spoken not a single word since they entered the dungeon classroom. Last year, Harry might have expected silence, for they would be deep in telepathic conversation. But for all the fuss Ginny had made of their bond in the summer, Harry wouldn't be surprised to find that it had atrophied of late.

Looking around at his girlfriend, who was staring blankly into the distance, Harry realized that he could barely feel anything from her. He could sense that she was there, as normal. However, attempting to read her emotions, which had once been completely unavoidable, was now almost impossible. Ginny's presence in his mind had all but faded.

Harry froze, staring at her. How could that be? He opened his mouth to say something. He hadn't decided what he would say. Why was she, who had dragged him to the library to read about it, freaking out that their bond wasn't strong enough, so blasé about it having almost entirely atrophied? Had she even noticed?

Alarm became despair. Had he lost her? Was this how it ended? Not to vanish in a furor of fire and lightning, but to quietly fade into the night?

And despair became apathy. Why should it matter? Nobody was hurt. Certainly Ginny didn't seem to have grieved.

Apathy too was finally forgotten. Harry frowned, looking at Ginny and wondering what thought had distracted him from his work. And, shaking his head, he returned to it.

Noting that the dried nettle and pufferfish eyes were now an indistinct mess at the bottom of his mortar, Harry added the prescribed amount to the cauldron and drew out his wand, intensifying the fire until he could feel its heat tickling his face. Ginny began stirring, and he noticed the subtle variations in speed as she worked. Whatever she was doing, it was having an effect. Whereas Hermione's potion was a rather pale pink, theirs was soon the desired vibrant fuchsia colour noted in the textbook.

Harry was becoming rather pleased with their progress when everything went utterly pear-shaped. There was a violent eruption from the other end of the room. In desperation, Theodore Nott vaulted over his table, which had started growing in front of him and blocking him into the corner of the room. This proved a rash tactic, however, as his own hand and feet began to increase disproportionately in size. This was only the tip of the iceberg. Swelling Solution had gone absolutely everywhere. One of Crabbe's eyeballs wasn't quite fitting in its socket, and as he screamed Harry found himself feeling sympathetic to the bully for the first time in the far too lengthy period that he'd known him. Pansy Parkinson had kicked off a rapidly inflating shoe and was hiding on a chair, oblivious to the fact that her morphing robes were soon going to rob her of her decency as well as her dignity. Not that she was the only person in such a predicament.

"SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught — when I find out who did this…"

Harry tried not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. It seemed that organic tissue was affected more than inanimate objects, which gave him more than a few ideas he thought best not to repeat aloud. Just as the blush was dying on his cheeks, he noticed Hermione slip out of Snape's office through the small throng of moaning students.

 _'_ _That little…'_ Harry thought, trying to hide his smirk by staring intently into his potion. Luckily, his work seemed unaffected. Not that that was likely to benefit them in the long run. The majority of those affected by whatever had happened were Slytherins, and Harry was sure that would mean nothing good for him or his friends.

Sure enough, when everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and began chanting softly while waving his wand in intricate patterns. There was a sudden hush.

"An Eruption Hex," Snape said quietly. "Whoever cast this would expect detention even without having caused such a… scene. Potter."

Harry looked up, startled. "Yes, professor?"

"Your wand," said Professor Snape.

Now more than just slightly concerned, Harry passed his wand to the angry looking professor.

" _Prior incantato_ ," Snape said, almost humming the words. Golden light shot out from his wand to Harry's, which vibrated slightly before the most remarkable thing happened. The wand began leaking a thin mist, regurgitating an immobilized mouse, a floating mouse, and a floating paper airplane.

There was a moment of silence as the ghostly images faded.

"Five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate use of charmwork," Snape spat, before returning to the front of the classroom. "And as the Gryffindors were unaffected by this… incident, they can stay behind to clean up the mess."

Lavender Brown seemed like she was about to protest, having developed lips the size of particularly fat slugs. She thought better of it.

Nobody said anything until the five of them were safely ensconced in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Hermione…" said Ron.

"No," she said sharply.

"Who else could've done it?" said Harry, grinning. "Nobody knows that spell."

"It wasn't me," Hermione said, vexed. "I saw an opportunity and I made use of it. I wasn't about to start throwing hexes around in Professor Snape's classroom of all places!"

"That would be an exceptionally silly move," Neville snorted. "I really thought you were screwed, Harry."

"Me too," Harry breathed. "I just hope he doesn't find _whoever_ did it."

"You don't think one of the Slytherins did it?" said Neville. "To try and get us in trouble?"

"Wouldn't put it past them," said Ginny.

"Well, let's get to work on this Polyjuice Potion, then," Hermione huffed. "Now that we're all done questioning _my_ innocence."

Ron flexed his index fingers in the air as she turned.

* * *

A week later, the five young Gryffindors were walking across the Entrance Hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus and Dean beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

Neville stroked his heirloom wand holster, and fired the wand out. Harry and Hermione made admiring noises as he caught it. It was still rather clumsy, but definite progress was being made.

"I'm up for it," said Neville. "Have to start somewhere."

"Could be useful," Ron agreed as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

The rest of them were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited. Seeing Luna across the hall, Harry gave her a small smile, which she absently returned. It was becoming rarer and rarer for them to spend any time with her, he found.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young – maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not –" Harry began, but he ended on a groan:

Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Should probably be more worried about himself," Seamus sniggered.

Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. There was certainly a general consensus to back away from Lockhart's end of the duelling platform.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed. At least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

"One – two – three –"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: " _Expelliarmus!_ " There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" said Harry, Ron and Neville together. Ginny was too busy laughing.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown – yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me –"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, and moved on to Ron, but Snape reached Harry and Ginny first.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered.

"Weasley, you can partner Rayne. Potter –"

Harry moved automatically toward Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger – you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked the relatively rather intimidating Millicent. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents – one... two… three –"

Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on 'two'. The imminent sense of danger filled Harry with a familiar sensation of controlled panic, and as he rolled deftly under the oncoming spell, Harry felt rage flood his system.

A startled Malfoy squeaked, " _Protego!_ "

It was too little too late. Harry came to his feet with his entire arm crackling with electricity, and punched the silvery-blue shield with such force that he felt it right through his spine. The magical shield buckled under the impact, shattering into pieces as lightning surged over its surface. Malfoy threw down his wand in shock, scrambling away just in time as the remaining charge flowed directly through the wand into the ground. A slight mist rose from the scorched wood as it rolled towards Harry.

"I'd call that disarming," said Harry. "Do try to play fair, Draco."

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart.

Harry frowned, taking note of their surroundings. A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting, each of them holding the other's wand. Ron was on the floor at the mercy of a mildly amused looking Su Li, while Ginny was in the opposite position of casual dominance over a cowering Carina Rayne. Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode, however, were still moving. Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

Harry snarled at Millicent, aiming his wand into her eyes with lightning crackling around his hands once more. "Let. Her. Go."

She gave him a hard stare, but stood down all the same. Hermione sniffed as she crouched to retrieve her wand, but dismissed Harry angrily when he inquired as to her wellbeing.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan... Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot...

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you –"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

Neville looked about ready to put Snape in a matchbox. A little burst of silver and red sparks rushed out of the end of his wand, but few who weren't stood next to him paid it any mind.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. Malfoy didn't look the least bit pleased with this arrangement, but Harry just flexed his fingers, entirely ready to punch something a little fleshier this time.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops – my wand is a little overexcited –"

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too.

"Don't worry, Professor Lockhart," said Harry. "I'm sure I'll pick it up."

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"Terrified," said Harry. "I'm so anxious I might drop my wand."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, and Harry found himself slightly concerned that he was about to be subjected to something less than legal.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"I wasn't serious about dropping my wand, professor."

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three – two – one – go!" he shouted.

Harry dodged the first spell, a basic Knockback Jinx. The second, a Winter's Grasp Hex, sailed overhead as Harry dodged under it. Slowly, Harry began advancing on Malfoy, lightning coursing up each arm and spitting from the end of his wand, making those on the right hurry backwards.

"Tsk, tsk, Malfoy, I told you to play fair," said Harry.

" _Rictusempra! Locomotor Mortis! Tarantallegra!_ " Malfoy cried.

The first fizzled out on a mysterious barrier surrounding Harry. The second was swatted into the ground. The third spell, Harry punched squarely with his wand hand. It rebounded to miss Malfoy's ear by a whisker.

" _Serpensortia!_ " Malfoy squealed, eyeing Harry's electrified body with mounting terror.

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, "Leave him alone!"

Perhaps the loud noise and the lightning intimidated it. Maybe Harry was just incredibly lucky. Whatever the explanation, the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him, and his lightning faded away, taking much of his energy with it. At least he knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't have explained.

He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful – but certainly not angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

"Come on," said Ron's voice in his ear. "Move – come on –"

Ron steered him out of the hall, the others hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, and nobody explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

"A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once – long story – but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to – that was before I knew I was a wizard –"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What's bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin –"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" said Neville, sounding rather relieved. "I did hope…"

"What d'you mean? You were there – you heard me –"

"We heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything – no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something – it was creepy, you know –"

Harry gaped at him.

"I spoke a different language? But – I didn't realize – how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Ron shook his head. Everyone looked as though someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Neville, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something –"

"But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."


	33. 33 - Tom Riddle's Diary

Harry lay awake for hours thinking on that fateful moment. Through a gap in the curtains around his four-poster he watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered...

Could he be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? From what Mrs Weasley had told him of the Potter line, his ancestor had duelled Gryffindor and received his nickname of Scarface from the injuries he suffered at the Founder's sword. It wasn't a reassuring thought.

Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to do it.

 _'_ _But I'm in Gryffindor,'_ Harry thought. _'The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood...'_

 _'_ _Ah,'_ said a nasty little voice in his brain, _'but the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don't you remember?'_

Harry turned over. He'd see Justin the next day in Herbology and he'd explain that he'd been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which (he thought angrily, pummelling his pillow) any fool should have realised.

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was cancelled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess, and Ginny sat with Neville as he continued to practise with the wand holster.

"For heaven's sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron's bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Go and find Justin if it's so important to you."

So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling grey snow at every window. Shivering, Harry walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger.

Unable to resist this, Harry crept to the door and peeked in. A group of sixth years were crowded around a large, sleek looking badger, who was prancing about on a table like he or she had just won the lottery. The students started clapping in time while Professor McGonagall hopelessly tried to restore order, eventually un-transfiguring the Ravenclaw boy, who ended up sprawled over the desk with a bemused expression.

Holding back laughter in spite of himself, Harry hurried along, hoping his Head of House hadn't seen him. Thinking that Justin might be using his free time to catch up on some work, Harry decided to check the library first.

A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was among them. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said Hannah Abbott anxiously, tugging at one of her blonde pigtails.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? 'Enemies of the Heir, Beware.' Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know – Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Harry snorted with laughter. It only got worse as he rounded the corner and saw their faces. Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the colour was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Gather round, children," Harry laughed. "Harry Potter's going to show you his terrifying powers of daaaarknesssss."

The Hufflepuffs looked uncertainly to Ernie. Hannah's lips twitched.

"I've never exactly hidden what I can do, though, have I, Ernie?" said Harry. Summoning his indignant rage over everyone's suspicion of him, he sparked lightning around his hand in a dramatic blue-white light show. "You know what, I came here to apologise to Justin. I figured it might have been a bit of a shock, and none of you would have figured out that the snake backed the fuck off after I talked to it. But you know what, keep making stuff up about me. I'm going back to my lair of evil to plot evil things."

"I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so –"

Harry had already turned to leave, but Ernie's persistence really stung. Not that the other Hufflepuffs really seemed to be behind him anymore.

"Malfoy's blood is probably purer than gold," Harry sneered. "If I could make one person in this castle shut up for a few months guess who'd be first on the list?"

With that, he left Ernie to stammer in his wake.

Harry blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.

Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

"All righ', Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Cancelled," said Harry, getting up. "What're you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."

He peered more closely at Harry from under his thick, snow flecked eyebrows.

"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered –"

Harry couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about him.

"It's nothing," he said. "I'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and I've got to pick up my books."

He walked off, his mind still full of what Ernie had said about him.

 _Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born..._

Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane.

He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

He turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though his stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn't just leave them lying here... He had to get help... Would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?

As he stood there, panicking, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking –"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Crash – crash – crash – door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,

You're killing off students, you think it's good fun –"

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Potter," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't –"

"This is out of my hands, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said.

This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life, sinking back into the wall and corkscrewing upwards, bringing a helical staircase up with it. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry couldn't fail to be amazed once more by the incredible sight. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

He knew now where he was. The last time he'd gone up this path had been under far better circumstances, however. This was the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.

Harry looked around. The room was every bit as interesting as he remembered it being. If he hadn't been scared out of his wits that he was about to be thrown out of school, he would surely have had a greater appreciation for being back in here.

Harry took in the silver instruments on their spindly tables still hissing and puffing and making little plumes of smoke. He saw the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses which adorned the walls, all of them snoozing gently in their frames. But Harry was most taken by something he hadn't noticed on his last visit. Behind an enormous, claw-footed desk was a shelf, and on that shelf a shabby, tattered wizard's hat – the _Sorting Hat_.

Harry hesitated. He cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down and tried it on again? Just to see... just to make sure it had put him in the right House…

He walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto his head. It was still too large and slipped down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on. Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in his ear, **_'Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?'_**

"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Err… sorry to bother you… I wanted to ask –"

 ** _'_** ** _You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House,'_** said the hat smartly. **_'Yes... you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before.'_**

Harry's heart leapt.

 ** _'_** ** _You would have done well in Slytherin.'_**

Harry's stomach plummeted.

"Why?" said Harry.

 ** _'_** ** _Not what you wanted to hear, I presume,'_** said the Hat. **_'Not with all this trouble in the castle.'_**

Harry almost snarled in frustration. How could the Hat be torturing him like this?

 ** _'_** ** _Do not ask me why I thought you a Slytherin, Potter,'_** the Hat went on. **_'Ask yourself why you feel the need to ask me.'_**

"Because I…" Harry frowned. Now that he thought about it, the question seemed silly. If he had any links to Slytherin that might make him responsible for the opening of the Chamber, he would remember opening the Chamber. "Oh."

 ** _'_** ** _Oh indeed,'_** said the Hat.

"Hat?" Harry said. He thought it a bit silly to address the Hat thusly, but couldn't think of any other honorific to give. "Do you remember the last time the Chamber opened?"

 ** _'_** ** _I do,'_** said the Hat darkly. **_'I have a long memory, Mr. Potter. I remember kings who have been lost to history, magicks lost to time, and times lost to space. This story has no such grandeur. Of a bullied child murdered in a toilet, a man accused without proof, and an accuser who became a monster.'_**

Harry realised with equal parts excitement and horror that he was learning the truth that had been so completely covered up. There was a gagging noise across the room, but Harry ignored it. Lives were at stake.

"What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

 ** _'_** ** _The accused was Rubeus Hagrid,'_** said the Hat.

Harry gaped, staring unseeingly across the room. _'No…'_

 ** _'_** ** _He was expelled from Hogwarts, his wand destroyed and his name marked down in the Ministry's little book to never be allowed to practise magic again. Yet he was never sentenced to prison. It was a sham, Potter. They never had more than Riddle's word that he was involved with the Chamber. They convicted him for illegal possession of an Acromantula, dangerous enough by itself but incapable of the crimes committed. But the attacks stopped, and it was swept under the rug, never to be spoken of again.'_**

"But the child…"

There was a whoosh. Harry looked up, alarmed, to see what appeared to be a bird on a perch, engulfed in bright fire.

"Fawkes…?" Harry muttered, thinking of the beautiful phoenix Ginny had mentioned. In moments it was a fireball. With one last, loud shriek it had disappeared in a pile of ash on the floor.

 ** _'_** ** _The child was Muggleborn, Potter,'_** said the Hat. **_'Her death was almost immaterial.'_**

Harry felt about ready to punch something. He thought of Hermione dying, and pulled the Hat off in disgust. But he had said that the girl was bullied. If he had died at primary school, and the Ministry had gone around modifying the Muggles' memories, would anyone have batted an eye?

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre.

"Professor," Harry said forlornly, replacing the Hat on his shelf and thanking him quietly. "Your bird… I couldn't do anything. He just caught fire…"

To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…"

Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

Dumbledore sat down in the high chair behind his desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light blue stare. Harry was about to question him about what the Sorting Hat had told him when the office door flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir –"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

"– it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to –"

"Hagrid, I –"

"– yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never –"

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."

And he stomped out looking embarrassed.

"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was sombre again. "But I still want to talk to you."

Harry waited while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of his long fingers together. His mind was restless. Although mere moments ago he had wanted to discuss the issue of the perpetrator with the headmaster, he was no longer quite so sure. Professor Dumbledore had surely been around when the Chamber last opened if Hagrid was involved. He certainly had remembered it back in the infirmary. Seeing as both he and Hagrid were still freely walking around, they would be in the best position to identify the Heir. The only missing piece of this puzzle was…

Harry's heart sank.

The Hat had called the accuser Riddle. And he knew that name. He wasn't quite sure why that disturbed him so greatly, but he barely heard the headmaster's words.

"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."

Harry didn't know what to say. He felt like bringing up the diary would only incriminate him and Ginny. He needed to investigate further, or he'd just be telling the headmaster things he already knew, and making himself a suspect in the process.

"No," said Harry. "There isn't anything, Professor..."

* * *

Harry drifted towards the Gryffindor common room in a haze of disconnected thoughts. He'd thought of asking Hagrid, but didn't want Professor Dumbledore to overhear the conversation and so decided that his only recourse was to go and ask Riddle himself what he remembered of the incident.

A bullied girl murdered in a bathroom… Harry found himself struck with sympathy. If Harry had died with his head in a toilet in primary school, he would have felt…

Harry's clarity of mind returned as if struck home with a sledgehammer. He would be absolutely miserable. There was only one ghost at Hogwarts who haunted a toilet.

"Myrtle!" Harry breathed, charging through a door-pretending-to-be-a-wall.

Bursting into the first floor girls' bathroom two minutes later, Harry leaned against the sinks trying to regain his breath.

"Well, hello," said a sullen voice. "What's brought you here in such a hurry?"

"I came here to see you, Myrtle," said Harry. "What's up?"

"Nobody comes to see me," she said miserably. "Not unless..."

"I just did."

Myrtle looked at him. Harry looked back, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"What's up?"

"Well, um..." said Myrtle, looking rather lost.

Harry leaned against the wall, realising this might take a while. "It must be worrying, knowing that whatever the monster is can harm ghosts, too."

"Not really," said Myrtle. "Haunting a girls' toilet isn't much fun."

"No, I don't imagine there are many wild parties," Harry agreed. "But you'd be okay with that? Dying again?"

"What do I have to live for?" Myrtle challenged.

Harry watched her, unsure whether he was allowed to laugh. They both smirked at about the same time, and shared a brief snigger.

"It gets lonely, in here..." said Myrtle, turning coy.

"You don't keep company with the other ghosts?" Harry asked.

"I'm the only one who died so recently," said Myrtle. "All I've got in common with most of them is being dead."

 _'_ _I'm sure it's nothing to do with your reputation for oversensitivity and throwing tantrums,'_ Harry didn't say. "That sucks. When did you die, if you don't mind me asking?"

Myrtle seemed to light up. "Oh no, it was nearly 51 years ago."

Once again, Harry was struck by the parallels. "Here in the toilets?"

"Ohhh yes!" Myrtle nodded. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then..."

Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..."

She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

Harry was happy that the bully had suffered, but he felt somehow that Myrtle derived entirely too much pleasure from it. More importantly, he had all but one piece of the puzzle.

"Did you recognise the boy?" said Harry. "His voice?"

"Not really," Myrtle shrugged. "It sounded all weird in that language. High pitched and... weird. I think it was like hissing..."

Realising that Myrtle wasn't sharp enough to draw the connection between the circumstances of her death and the then prominent activity of Slytherin's monster, Harry decided against informing her. The risk of her accidentally telling the perpetrator that Harry was on their trail was simply too great.

"So how come you're not haunting Miss Hornby?" said Harry.

Myrtle sniffed irritably. "Apparently the Ministry of Magic doesn't like revenge. They threatened me with necromancy if I didn't leave her alone. Told me to 'forgive and forget'. Ha! But she never forgot about me, I made sure of that. Not until her dying day."

Harry was rapidly losing sympathy for Myrtle. If this girl had been such a horrible person that she continued to deserve punishment until her death, all Myrtle would accomplish by torturing her was to cause even more suffering.

"She's dead?" said Harry.

"Heart attack," Myrtle said, grinning.

"Well, all's well that ends well," said Harry. _'Holy shit I need to get out of this bathroom.'_

"You... really came here just to talk to me?" said Myrtle.

"Not everyone is your enemy, Myrtle," Harry smiled.

Miracle of miracles, she smiled back.

* * *

By the time Harry got back to the Gryffindor common room he had long since missed the start of Transfiguration. Deciding to put his feet up rather than run down for the last ten minutes of the class, Harry threw himself onto a sofa by the fire. He could share what he knew once the others got back.

The first thing he noticed was the muttering. It wasn't entirely unusual for him but it was far more prominent than usual, especially for the common room. And when he looked around the room (as casually as he could), the number of hurried head turns was really rather disturbing. Had Peeves been yelling his song to the whole school? Or had rumours spread so fast of how Harry had been found with Justin's frozen body?

"But why would he?"

"How should we know?"

"Always thought he was a bit odd."

 _Freak._

Harry stood up and left. The anger swelling within him was beginning to overpower his thoughts, and it was all he could do to walk away. His own housemates? The people he was supposed to consider family? Those he'd almost sacrificed his life to save? He wanted to tear them apart.

 _'_ _But what would that make me?'_

If he had thought it would be any better outside of Gryffindor tower, he was sorely mistaken. People openly pointed in the corridors and hurried in the opposite direction. A few students even drew their wands as they saw him. Even though he kept his head down and didn't do anything so threatening as to cough, people hurled threats and accusations if they had the courage to even be in the same corridor as him. Harry had never felt so vilified.

Wanting to avoid people, especially his friends who would soon be returning from class, Harry slipped through a mirror into a secret passage. And, finally alone, he gave into his rage. Lightning burst from his hand amidst a skittering of bright sparks as he punched the stone wall. His vision splashed purple and blue, while his knuckles exploded in agony. He almost missed the little red ripples of light in the masonry.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

He sat heavily. Taking deep, slow breaths did nothing to soothe his heart, or the rage and despair that were building there. Why the betrayal hurt so much he could not say. All he knew was that the coming days would be incredibly trying. And it seemed like he was looking to face them alone. The feeling was of being disconnected, a terrible solitude Harry had not known since his cupboard. It was more than the student body turning their backs on him. He would never need the company of anyone, not their approval nor their acceptance, had he the presence of one he kept most dear to his heart. It was a presence that was always with him, a comfort and a reminder… until now.

As Harry stared at the wall, he wondered how long it had been since he had last felt Ginny's warm touch on his mind. And he knew then that it had all gone horribly wrong.

But as he wandered the castle halls, drifting past the onlookers, as passive a presence among his friends that evening as Ginny had been for weeks, he couldn't make the last piece of the puzzle fall into place.

 _Why?_

Harry barely noticed the passing of the days. Suspicions were rising as Harry did nothing more to dissuade people of the notion that he might be responsible for the attacks befalling his peers. On the way back from a Potions class, something hit Harry in the head. It was a remarkably large onion. Harry stared at it on the ground while Neville and Ron vocally defended him, pulling their wands and daring the attacker to face them. When Harry looked up at the Entrance Hall around them, his eyes instantly found a pair of silvery blue ones.

Luna beckoned him forwards, and Harry followed without question. Another girl was with her, shorter and dark of hair, with Chinese features. Su Li, another friend of Ginny's from their year. The commotion faded away behind them as the girls led him away through a secret passage. They said nothing, but Harry doubted he would have heard them through his bitter thoughts regardless.

Finally, coming out onto the fourth floor, they stopped. Harry couldn't identify the corridor. He could only see that it was empty.

"Harry Potter," said Luna.

Harry looked up at her.

"Oh, _Harry_!" said Su, shocked and aggrieved. She met his eyes then for the first time Harry could remember.

"What is it?" said Harry, his voice slightly gruff from disuse.

"Do you want to-" Su began.

"No," said Harry firmly.

She looked taken aback, but nodded her acquiescence.

"We wanted to talk about Ginny," said Luna.

If anything was going to get Harry's attention, it was that.

"Has she... seemed strangely distant to you this year?" said Su.

"Why?"

"Because she's been distant with _everyone_ ," said Su. "She just tells us she's fine, feeling a bit under the weather, this or that, and people are getting used to it."

"But it's not natural," said Luna. "I know that, and you know that."

"She doesn't even go to the library anymore," said Su. "The only book I've seen her with is that diary of hers."

Something snapped in Harry's mind.

A memory stored in a book. Hagrid's accuser. Ginny behaving strangely. Harry not noticing her behaving strangely. The bond closing off…

"The _diary_!" Harry cried.

Su looked rather alarmed. "That's what I…"

Harry wanted to warn them of the diary's danger, but what if they did something foolish and it got control over them too? No, he needed to prevent collateral damage.

"I… I think she might have written about whatever's wrong in the diary," said Harry.

"You're not suggesting we read it?" Su said incredulously.

"No," Harry sighed. "Of course not, that's not fair. Look, I'll go talk to her, see if I can figure out what's going on. I'm sure she's just been down, what with all of the attacks."

"Yes, but…" said Su.

The Chinese girl was looking mildly infuriated as he turned away from them, but Luna still had her eyes calmly fixed on Harry's.

"What about you?"

Harry ran up the next secret passageway. He needed to find that diary.

His muscles were burning by the time he reached the seventh floor, but he kept pushing himself. If Tom Riddle was using Ginny to open the Chamber of Secrets, every second Harry wasted risked another attack.

Reaching the common room, Harry schooled his features and tried to calm his breathing. Ginny didn't need to be clued in too much.

However, when he passed behind the Fat Lady, he realised that Ginny was not there.

"There you are!" said Hermione. "The others are out looking for you."

"We know what you're doing, Potter," said a faceless fourth year.

"We're not scared," said another.

"Oh leave him alone!" Hermione cried.

"It's fine, Hermione," said Harry. "I'm going to bed."

Hermione gaped at him. "It's five o'clock."

Harry took her hand in his. "Thanks, Hermione."

Then he turned to the boys' staircase and headed up before he could lose his nerve.

Grabbing his Nimbus 2000 from where he'd left it under the bed, he draped his Invisibility Cloak over boy and broom both and floated carefully out through the window.

Within moments he was at the girls' dorm, looking in. While there was no obvious activity, Harry couldn't risk leaving this to chance. Strafing slowly across each window in turn, he examined every inch of the room. He checked the common room, confirming that Hermione was still downstairs and people were starting to leave. With one more quick look, Harry eased open a window with _Alohomora_ and slipped inside.

Still wary of being caught, Harry kept the cloak wrapped tightly under him as he descended, reaching out into Ginny's bed. His hand slid under her pillow, searching, searching...

His fingers clamped shut on the thin little book. Harry was seized by the urge to just tear out its pages, but somehow he felt that that wouldn't be particularly productive. A book with these kinds of enchantments was surely too valuable to risk to the ravages of time and careless handling. No, he needed to beat this thing at its own game.

Shutting the window behind him and levitating the lock shut, Harry took once more to the skies, thinking of all that this book had done. Trying to kill civilian children, endangering his friends, taking Ginny away from him... he returned to his room with murder in his heart.

 _Hello again, Tom._

 _Harry! What a pleasant surprise, I rather thought you'd tired of my company._

 _Now how could that be?_

 _I am flattered. How have you been?_

 _Not too well, I'm afraid._

 _I'm sorry to hear it. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?_

 _The Chamber of Secrets._

 _Ah. Yes, Ginny did mention this. One of those rare, unfortunate situations where the truth is as horrifying as the nightmare._

 _I thought you might know something. You were here around the time it was last opened, weren't you?_

 _My, my, you are well informed. I do, indeed, know something of the Chamber, and what happened in Hogwarts Castle all those years ago._

 _Please, tell me._

 _It would be far easier to show you._

Harry gritted his teeth. This was the point of no return, and he knew it. He could go to Professor Dumbledore. The diary didn't yet hold him. But he hadn't needed the headmaster's aid last year, and he remembered well how the staff had responded to their offer of aid.

No. This would be his fight. For the victims who blamed him. For the school that rejected him. For the girlfriend who'd forgotten him.

 _Okay._

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. Squinting to look through the little window, he began leaning in and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward. The window was widening, and he could no longer feel the floor or bed beneath him. It gave him the impression of take off and yet he felt like he was drifting, floating in oil.

For what felt like several long seconds, Harry was lost in a world out of focus. It was like being in a quiet room without his glasses on. Streaks and splashes of colour, and varying gradations of shadow, all swam smoothly around, slowly enough to be entrancing more than nauseating.

Harry's feet hit solid ground, and he stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus. He knew immediately where he was. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office – but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.

Walking over to the old man, who Harry presumed was a prior headmaster of Hogwarts, he tried getting his attention by waving a hand. As Harry had suspected, the wizard was quite oblivious to his presence. Harry schooled his features, hoping that Riddle had not yet sensed his intentions, though he suspected that ship may well have sailed. If this was as he suspected, he was in a memory — Riddle's memory. And if he was inside Riddle's head, so to speak…

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his window. The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

The question was, now that he was here, how could he subdue Riddle's spirit? What was there for him to fight?

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was taller than Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster.

Harry had a sudden vision of himself in the Mirror of Erised. Pale, waxy skin, with eyes that flashed red…

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that… to that…"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents…?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me – Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle. Harry's heart started pounding furiously in his chest, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the – err… source of all this unpleasantness..."

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir – if the person was caught – if it all stopped –"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

It was too fast. Harry started putting two and two together. Riddle was desperate not to go home for the holidays, but at the same time had at least something to do with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. And after this, he'd started throwing wild accusations at Hagrid, which the headmaster and Board of Directors were more than happy to accept if it meant averting the closure of the school, but didn't have enough substance to them to result in a jail sentence.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

Harry tensed, knowing that he'd found his mark, and suddenly rather worried that he'd made a terrible mistake coming in here alone.

"You may go, Tom..."

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Harry, watching him. Harry could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the Entrance Hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Harry gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Harry in hot pursuit.

But to Harry's disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which Harry had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn't be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here... C'mon now... in the box..."

"I get the feeling you know what happens next," said Riddle.

To Harry's alarm, he realised that the prefect was no longer watching the boy Harry assumed to be Hagrid. Riddle was staring right at him.

"Yeah, I do," said Harry. "Wouldn't expect any better from an Heir of Slytherin."

"I suppose an Heir of Gryffindor would have ridden the beast through the castle, slaying all who opposed him?" Tom smirked.

"An Heir of Gryffindor would never stoop so low as murder," said Harry. "But I suppose you're too fucked up to understand that."

Riddle laughed. "Your naivety is quite amusing."

"What have you done with Ginny?" Harry growled.

"Ah, little Ginny Weasley," said Tom. "You've been neglecting her, Harry. She's been hurting for a long, long time. And her only remaining comfort… is me."

"You sick _bastard_!" Harry shouted, charging at him.

Riddle burst into mist as Harry made contact, leaving him to look at the frozen image of a young Rubeus Hagrid, trying to encourage a spider the size of a large wolf into a box.

"Tsk, tsk. Temper, temper, Harry," said Riddle from behind him. Harry whirled to see the wraith arrogantly smiling at him. "That's going to get you into trouble one of these days."

"What are you doing to her?" Harry repeated through clenched teeth. A spark of electricity jumped from his middle finger to his index, but Riddle paid it no heed.

"Simply relieving her of her burdens," Riddle sighed. "All these little problems of hers… her consciousness… her life. You should be happy for her, Harry. Soon, she will be truly free."

"You're using her to open the Chamber," Harry said, resisting the urge to put his hands around the boy's throat. "How?"

"So many questions," Riddle mused. "Has the Gryffindor turned Ravenclaw? From the Neanderthal stance you're taking I should think not, but no matter. It is rather simple, Harry. Your little girlfriend is rather the pathetic little idiot. And while it was horrifically boring to listen to her drivel about her little problems, it made her so much easier."

By this point, the insults weren't even getting to Harry as much. Riddle had found his way into the corner of Harry's mind that was usually reserved for Malfoy and his ilk. But that last comment caught his attention. " _You_ made me stop writing in the diary?"

"You gave me enough, Harry," Riddle smiled. "I've had a finger in your head for months. You see, while you aren't quite so full of trite, self-pitying nonsense as Ginny, you have a rather blatant vulnerability."

Harry frowned for a moment, wracking his brain. Then his mouth fell open. "No."

"And now you see why it's been so easy," Riddle laughed. "Why neither of you have so much as talked to each other for weeks. Why you all keep mysteriously forgetting things? And why you haven't felt anything through your curious bond in so long... It was mine the moment Ginny started complaining to me about all her second-hand books and clothes, the way her brothers always excluded her, and she would never be able to keep the _great Harry Potter's_ attention…"

And suddenly everything clicked into place in Harry's mind. For a moment, the Chamber of Secrets almost seemed a secondary issue. Ginny's wanting to keep the bond secret, her attitude towards Katie, and her eagerness to... do more with him. And he was wracked with guilt that he _had_ been neglecting her. That he hadn't understood and tried to help her, even though he could feel her emotions all the time. That he had been too scared to let their relationship… _progress_.

"I've always been good with people, Harry," said Tom. " _Especially_ women."

Once again, the urge to flatten Tom's skull turned Harry's vision hazy with rage.

"She poured her soul out to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted," Riddle smirked. "I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, darkest secrets… and desires."

Riddle was just pushing his buttons. Manipulating him the same way he'd manipulated Ginny. He had needed Ginny docile and compliant to possess her. He needed Harry angry for… what? Was he planning on turning Harry loose in the school? Make everyone think him the Heir? That would buy him maybe one or two more muggleborns before they closed the school… It made no sense. Unless…

Harry's eyes went wide. Riddle had been using the bond to manipulate him _through_ Ginny. So what if, by saturating the bond with Harry's anger, he could use Harry to manipulate _her_? He couldn't fight Ginny! The fact that she'd trounce him aside, he simply couldn't do it. Harry needed to end this. Fast.

"… her entries became _far_ more interesting. _Dear Tom, I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad. . . . I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!_ "

The haze was back. Blood was pounding in Harry's eardrums. Ginny wasn't approaching yet — he could sense her on the other side of the castle, becoming confused and disoriented but too far away to interfere. And when he realised that, he stopped paying attention. All that mattered now was his rage. A rage that he didn't care to contain any longer.

Riddle could see that Harry was done talking. He simply watched, waiting.

A flurry of jinxes left Harry's wand, passing straight through Riddle and fading out of existence.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry yelled, attempting to replicate Professor Snape's wand movement. To his surprise, his own wand flew out of his hand, landing in Riddle's. It was cast aside, and melted into smoke.

"You are inside my mind you pathetic excuse for a wizard," Riddle sneered. "And this is the famed Boy Who Lived."

Harry yelled, lightning coursing over his entire body. He couldn't even see Riddle anymore. His whole world was light as he floated higher and higher off the ground. But he could feel the wraith — a pulsing nexus of bitterness and hatred, a hollow pain with no beginning and no end.

"Die."

There was a sound like a bomb going off as Harry released all his rage and all of his power in a torrent of electricity. It found its mark.

"AAIIIIEEEEE!" Riddle screamed. Harry felt the pain the wraith was suffering, but it brought him no satisfaction. It only steeled his resolve. He would finish this now. And when it was done, he would fix things with Ginny. He would not lose this chance he had been given.

Hovering now with the sheer force of charge on him, Harry drew upon himself, concentrating the energy in his right hand even as lightning continued to flood into Riddle from his left. And, drawing his hand back, he hurled a blinding ball of fear and pain and rage into the maelstrom that was Tom Riddle.

"HOW DARE YOU!" hissed a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Harry ignored it, now become a spinning vortex of raw energy that threatened to consume him with everything else in this forsaken diary. He would not fail.

"YOU ARE IN _MY_ DOMAIN!"

"Aaaaarrrrghh!" Harry cried, set upon by something the likes of which he'd never felt. It was as though his temples were caught in a vice, and the pressure just kept increasing. But the pain made him ever stronger. "You will not have her!"

"She is already mine," said Riddle, strained but as arrogant as ever. "I wonder what I'll do with the body once I am done with it… Perhaps I shall keep it. She is a pretty young thing, and from good Pureblood stock."

Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to contract at once. Slowly, he folded backwards on himself, his head reaching back towards the soles of his feet. The pain was so all-consuming, he could no longer even form thoughts. But he held onto one thing. One thing kept him going as his body broke and his mind shattered. Through it all, he held on to Ginny. And with one last, breathless scream, he unloaded everything he had left to give in one cacophonous, brilliant explosion.

Smoking, finished, he fell to the ground with a thud. And as he lay there, broken, burned and beaten, Riddle looked down into his unmoving green eyes.

The wraith, almost transparent and twitching in and out of coherence, spat on Harry's body. Only then did he allow himself a contemptuous smirk.

"I win."


	34. 34 - The Void

The common room was far too quiet. It had never been so full, and yet every single person was talking as though afraid of disturbing a slumbering dragon. Neville Longbottom found his skull echoing with random thoughts of everything and nothing as he sat by the fire with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Anything to distract him from his grief... If only life were so simple.

The rest of their house was giving them a fairly wide berth, out of respect for their mourning. Ginny was utterly distraught, and had spent the whole evening staring into the flames, tears streaming endlessly down her cheeks. For his part, Ron had not spoken a word.

While they had been this way from the moment they heard the news, Hermione had responded differently. By the time they came back and found her in the common room she had brought down a stack of books — Lockhart's books — and begun to read. Disbelieving, Neville looked over ten minutes later and noted that she hadn't passed the first line. From her expression she was far from engrossed. In fact, he had been just in time to see her hurl the novel into the fire. Hermione had buried her head in her hands and not looked up since.

Neville only then realised that, in holding back tears of his own, he had been holding his breath. It came out ragged, shaky...

Harry was gone.

His body had been levitated to the Hospital Wing under a cloth. In spite of their combined efforts in combing the castle, it had been Hermione who'd found him. She had not spoken a word of what had come to pass, but apparently had gone upstairs to investigate when the thunderous crashing had begun in the boys' dormitories. Light had been seen coming from the windows that outshone the sun. And once the noises had died away, and the light had faded, and the castle had stopped quaking under the onslaught… the silence was punctuated by a blood-curdling scream.

Those who had seen Harry being carried away said they had never seen Madam Pomfrey quite so grim. He wasn't dead, she had said. But he was in a place that no magic could bring him back from. Only time could tell whether Harry Potter would ever wake up.

Neville squeezed his wand until sparks exploded from the tip, but he couldn't contain a sob. The idea that Harry might not be coming back...

At that one choked cry, the dam burst.

Ron shouted something indiscriminate and stormed towards the portrait hole.

Her eyes brimming with tears, Hermione balled her hands into fists and began to wail.

Ginny seemed almost calm. It was only as Neville wiped the tears from his eyes that he realized something was wrong.

Her tears were catching fire, and there was something different this time. For as the flames spread into her clothing, the red Gryffindor lining began to blacken. A drop landed on the sofa and continued to burn as her entire robe went up in flames.

"Ginny, no!" Neville yelled, aiming his wand at her face without the slightest idea of what spell to cast.

A great gust of wind swept the room. But the fire was indomitable.

"Help me!" Neville cried. People had only just realised what was happening, and were fumbling for their wands as the flames spread.

The sofa was engulfed, and Neville darted backwards as the carpet began to catch.

" _Aguamenti!_ "

" _Ventus!_ "

" _Abisquia Caloris Ignis Concidius!_ "

It took half of the wands in the room to stop the fire from spreading. The portraits had rapidly evacuated their frames, but a couple of students who had not been quick enough to react were crying and screaming as their classmates tried to put out burning clothing.

"Somebody get McGonagall."

"I'll find Madam Pomfrey."

"We're doomed."

Hermione was frozen, staring at Ginny from where a seventh year had hurriedly dragged her away from the spreading conflagration. Ron was little better, sitting horrified by the portrait hole as their common room was simultaneously torched and flooded.

Ginny was staring blankly into the distance, her eyes empty. She sniffed, the fire disappearing as if smothered, and stood up, walking stiffly to the girls' staircase. All that remained was the blackened, charred furniture, still smoking gently in her wake.

Turning to the side, Neville suddenly and violently emptied his stomach onto the common room floor.

* * *

Slamming the dormitory door behind her, Ginny collapsed against it, emptying her lungs as she fought the urge to cry. She succeeded, but as the weight of what had happened, and what might have happened, settled upon her temples, it was all she could do to keep her scream of frustration and anguish silent. Instead, a good part of the boiler shielding and Fay's bed that had been unfortunate enough to be in the path of her fury vaporised into dark mist.

Staring at the further destruction she had wrought, she sank to the ground. What if she had unleashed that kind of power in the common room?

Raising a hand, she examined the fire that she had become so familiar with. It seemed cold now, almost lifeless as it steadily burned. A ghost at her fingertips.

Everything had gone to hell this year. She had drifted away from Harry, drifted away from her friends and now that which she had prized above all else was gone for good. Even her magic was turning sour.

"Ginny?" said Hermione through the door, knocking quietly. "Are you in there?"

With an almost dismissive gesture, Ginny willed that the door fuse to its frame.

"Ginny?"

It wasn't Hermione on the other side of that door. The girl Ginny heard was lost and frightened. And while normally she would have grabbed her friend by the wrist and talked over chocolate frogs, today Ginny wanted nothing to do with it. For today, Ginny was lost too, and there was only one person she could possibly turn to.

She didn't even hear the muffled sob as Hermione turned and left. Dragging herself over to her bed, she sat heavily on the luxurious, soft mattress, and slid her hand under the pillow.

Ginny's eyes flew wide open.

Casting aside her pillows with a flick of her wrist, she saw nothing but bedsheets. Now suddenly frantic, she tore apart her pillowcases, flinging her duvet back... and found nothing.

The diary was gone.

* * *

A great crashing noise from above almost sent Hermione down the stairs the short way as she turned rapidly on her heel. On seeing red hair flying, Hermione felt her heart leap. And just as quickly it was trampled underfoot as Ginny careened past her. Her friend didn't even appear to have seen her, gripped as the redhead was by some incredible panic.

 _'Perhaps she's going to try and see Harry,'_ Hermione thought, her mood dropping even further. The image of him, burned and broken on the floor, was scorched into her retinas for all of time.

He had been invincible. He always seemed invincible. As stupid as he was sometimes, Harry Potter did not deserve to die. What world could take him from them? How could this magical world take Harry Potter from _her_?

Her left knee buckled as she reached the bottom of the stairs, but Hermione was just about able to stay upright. She felt weariness akin to having been awake for a straight week. And yet she dreaded what she would see when she closed her eyes. Looking around, Hermione saw fifty heads turn hurriedly away. Onlookers who wanted to busy themselves making gossip of their grief but cared none to share the burden. The sight of Neville, waiting anxiously by the fire, was the greatest relief Hermione felt capable of. She dared not to dream of Harry waking.

"Hey," said Neville softly. "Did you and Ginny...?"

"I don't think I could fight with _Ron_ right now," Hermione breathed, shaking her head. "I just want to wake up, Neville."

Neville nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment.

"He's not gone," said Neville.

"Neville, please..." Hermione grimaced.

"I know him," said Neville. "Better than I've ever known anyone. And when he wakes up he's going to be pretty disappointed if we fell apart and let Slytherin's monster keep killing."

"You think that's what...?" said Hermione.

"No," Neville said firmly. "He's not Muggle-born and he hasn't done anything high profile enough yet to get their attention. Unless whoever is controlling the monster wants to take credit for it."

Hermione shuddered. "Please, Neville, I can't talk about it. Not yet."

"Fine," said Neville. "I suppose that can wait. But we need to figure out who's behind this before anyone else is attacked. And I'll be doing that with or without your help."

Neville reached a hand out to her. He was pleading with his eyes for her not to abandon him. But all Hermione could now think of was Harry's ravaged body, his killer laughing as the amorphous beast stood victorious over her friend's corpse, lowering its head...

Staggered by wave upon wave of nausea, Hermione hurried past a distraught Neville towards the portrait hole. Distracted thus, nobody in the common room saw Ginny appear at the foot of the boys' stairs, holding something hidden in her robes, a faint smile on her otherwise emotionless face.

* * *

"What is your professional opinion on his chances, Madam Pomfrey?" said Professor Dumbledore.

There was a muffled sniff. "I can't say. The boy is tough, but..."

"Is there anything more that might be done for him?" said the headmaster, sounding both soothing and urgent.

"There are rituals that could force his mind to respond," Madam Pomfrey said forlornly. "But they could just as easily break him. The only safe way is for him to recover on his own."

"An uncommon occurrence it would seem," Professor Dumbledore said.

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey. "Only... only three of the recorded nineteen have..."

"Young Harry Potter will awaken, Poppy," said Professor Dumbledore. "As you yourself said, his mettle has been tested and found worthy of his house. He is not lost."

"I can only hope," said Madam Pomfrey.

Their voices were barely noticed by the object of their concerns.

Harry Potter drifted aimlessly in the void.

Below him lay his body, slowly healing from the copious burns, broken bones and the mess the fight had made of his internal organs.

Above him were the stars.

The hospital wing floated in the abyss like a leaf on the water, almost silhouetted against the pinpricks of cosmic light below as Harry rose.

Dumbledore's voice grew faint, yet Harry had barely been able to hear it even when he was closer, so overwhelming in their numbers were the disembodied voices that moaned and pleaded and whimpered in the dark. Harry recognised them. He had heard them when he travelled by Portkey to Romania and back, and they waited for him to enter that same in-between space in Apparation.

"Stay..."

The word echoed gently in his mind, and Harry frowned up at the emptiness of space. The voice had not come from the Hospital Wing. Disturbingly, unlike the apparently wordless voices that came from all around him, this was crisp, clear English, though it did sound as if spoken in a tunnel.

Was the man talking to him?

Where was he supposed to stay? In this strange, beautiful limbo? Or perhaps simply away from whoever the man was?

Would he hear Harry speak in turn?

"Hello?"

Harry was treated to the singularly unnatural experience of hearing his voice reverberate within his skull without a single trace reaching his ears as conventional sound. It was nauseating. His ears felt as though full of treacle, and his face was numb.

"Can anyone hear me?"

 _'In space, no-one can hear you scream,'_ Harry mused. Perhaps that truly was where he drifted now. And maybe it was weariness from the fight, but he didn't feel any real urgency to get back. In fact, the thought barely crossed his mind. And he continued to drift upwards as if propelled by some supernatural force.

Turning back to look down upon the fragment of Hogwarts that had torn free with him, Harry saw what must have been the entire Milky Way galaxy beneath it. Great arms of stars were flung out from the rotating centre, where a blinding, swirling mist pulsed with energy.

Harry should have felt small. In the face of such greatness, in the light of his failure, he had every right to feel diminished and beaten. And yet the only thing he knew was wonder. Being destroyed by Riddle felt almost immaterial next to what he saw, and the strange sense of purpose he gradually was being filled with. There was something out there — something in the stars — that was calling to him, regardless of what the mysterious man said.

No matter how powerful the call though, it could not block out the voices that still pulled at Harry, wordless but somehow intelligible. They were terrified and angry and desperate. Above all else, they were trapped. But their despair was not one to recover from. It was a timeless woe that weighed on Harry's soul as they reached out to him. And Harry knew for sure, now...

This was the realm of the dead.


	35. 35 - Ways of Coping

Neville walked aimlessly towards the hospital wing, but with a feeling of great purpose. Covering him was Harry's invisibility cloak. For Neville had returned to bed last night in a cloud of despair, finding neither Harry nor Ron there. And as he had sat down upon his bed, deaf to Dean and Seamus' condolences, his only thought had been of what he could possibly do to carry on when everything and everyone had collapsed around him. Neville had looked upon Harry's empty, perfectly made bed, the disintegrated sheets replaced and the charred bed frame repaired just as everything else in the room had been, and made a decision. Once the others had fallen asleep, he had walked over and taken the cloak straight out of Harry's trunk.

This was what found him wandering a sixth floor corridor, undetectable but to the most attentive, or inhuman, of pursuers. If Neville was to take up Harry's mantle, he needed to start somewhere. He had just realised why he was headed towards the hospital wing when he realised what was missing from his toolset. Flicking his wrist out, he caught the wand with an almost comfortable degree of precision. He just needed to be able to fight with it.

The wand was fitting his hand better as the weeks passed, responding more intuitively to his will. Perhaps it was he who was becoming stronger, but Neville doubted it. It was his father's wand, not his. The wand chose the wizard, or so the adage famously went. And if his father's wand was becoming more approving of him, perhaps in some way that meant that his father would have been more approving of him as well…

When Neville shook himself free of his thoughts, he found himself standing in front of the infirmary doors. They were firmly closed. Looking up and down the corridor and seeing not a soul to witness, he uncovered himself with haste, stuffing the cloak into his bag.

Madam Pomfrey came quickly to the door at his knock, her face a mask of distress. "Another attack?"

"No," Neville said quickly. "At least, I hope not. Please, Madam Pomfrey, could I see Harry?"

If it were possible, Madam Pomfrey looked even more pained. "I… He is completely unresponsive, Mr. Longbottom."

"I don't need him to talk," said Neville. "I need him to know I'm here."

Madam Pomfrey sniffed, and let him through, but took him immediately aside.

"His injuries are extensive," she warned. "They will heal, but his ordeal took a great toll on his body."

"Whatever it is, I'll stomach it," said Neville.

Madam Pomfrey took him by the shoulder. "Your seeing him is conditional upon my believing that. I recall you having a strong constitution when it came to your leg last year, but what has happened to your friend goes far beyond a fractured tibia."

Neville wasn't sure what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. Madam Pomfrey was looking for something in his eyes, and whatever she found seemed to please her, for she nodded solemnly and released his shoulder.

"Your friend is trapped within his mind," said Madam Pomfrey. "He may be aware of the outside world, and that is why I will allow you to visit him. If there is a chance, no matter how slim, that hearing his friends' voices will encourage him to return to us, I will take it."

That was the moment when Neville realised that Madam Pomfrey might care slightly more than her professional relationship with Harry would dictate. Harry had spoken very little of the resident healer's visits to the Burrow over the summer, and they had respected his privacy on the matter. Looking at her face, rejuvenated with the beauty of her youth but somehow wearier even than before that fateful ritual, Neville wasn't sure whether he was unhappy that the topic had never been broached.

"Just talk as you would normally," said Madam Pomfrey, leading him over to an obscured bed.

Neville thought himself prepared. But when Madam Pomfrey drew back the curtain, he felt acid at the back of his throat, his stomach convulsing in protest. Harry was recognisable, but only because Neville was so familiar with him. Much of his hair was gone, as he had been burned through to the bone, his clothes melted into him in places and every inch of his body blackened and charred.

"He's… still alive?" Neville gasped.

"His heart still beats," said Madam Pomfrey. "His mind is active and magic courses through his soul like a hurricane of energy. And yet the boy will not wake."

The boy Neville had known had been laid out carefully on the bed to aid in his healing correctly. But an extra precaution had been taken in the form of levitation runestones, keeping Harry two inches aloft. For where Neville could see bare flesh, there was no skin to cover it. In fact, a great deal of the flesh on his arms was simply gone. Only magic held some of his charred finger bones in place, with mere sinews of flesh supporting the others, white and slick. It would have been less gruesome were Harry covered in blood. But he had had no chance to bleed, tissue incinerated and vessels cauterised by the sheer heat. The only part of Harry left untouched was something Neville rather wished had been destroyed - the pain and hopelessness in those green eyes were frozen there forever, along with a chilling dose of fear.

"Harry..." said Neville, moving closer. His heart was a block of ice, tight and heavy in his chest. "I... Merlin, what happened to you?"

As expected, there was no response. No flicker of life to give him hope.

"I want you to know that we won't give up," Neville said. "But we need you with us, Harry. Take your time and heal, but for Merlin's sake please... please don't leave me."

Madam Pomfrey placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and he suppressed a sniff before turning to walk away. But even as he turned, an idea struck him.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he said.

She looked up after a few seconds from whatever incantation she had just weaved over Harry.

"You were the only one to see the room before it was rebuilt, weren't you?" said Neville. "Apart from Hermione, I mean."

"Yes, I was," she said. "What of it?"

"Did you notice anything at all?" said Neville. "Something in a strange place, or...?"

Madam Pomfrey seemed to debate whether or not to take him seriously for a moment. But then her frown deepened as she considered. "Everything was curious, but nothing seemed out of place. His trunk and broomstick mainly escaped harm, hidden beneath the bed, as did the... err... Ah, yes!"

Neville started slightly, having been distracted by the question of whether she had been about to bring up the cloak, and why she would have forgotten such a rare item. But he knew from the look on the healer's face that he had something more important on his hands.

"A book..." said Madam Pomfrey. "Somehow, whatever did that to Mr. Potter, that little book was barely touched. It was on what was left of the bedside table, with a couple of charred fragments of quill and a melted ink bottle."

Neville started. A cursed book? That made no sense, especially if there was a connection with the chamber. They weren't unheard of, but the power and sophistication to find and open a hidden chamber in Hogwarts and cause some sort of firestorm in the boys' dormitory would be beyond the realm of reason. And yet there had to be some sort of explanation...

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Neville said, distracted. His mind was entirely occupied with trying to remember Harry having spent any time with a small book that wasn't on their set list.

"Mr. Longbottom, I realise that you want to find out who or what did this to him," said Madam Pomfrey. "You are not alone in that. But in the current climate, I fear that..."

"I'll end up in the bed next to him?" said Neville. "I understand, Madam Pomfrey. But if nothing meaningful is done, you might find yourself short of beds this year."

Madam Pomfrey seemed ready to reprimand him, but hesitated, and the boy wizard turned on his heel.

As he left the infirmary, Neville went straight to the window, resting his arms on the sill and breathing deeply. Wave after wave of nausea crashed over him like the icy touch of a ghost flying right through him. Feeling the bile rise in his throat, his stomach bracing to heave, Neville clenched his fists desperately in an attempt to stave off his body's reaction. He was getting rather weary of seeing Harry turned nearly to a corpse by Hogwarts school. But the sight that had met him on that hospital bed was something entirely different.

Once his legs had stopped trembling, Neville turned away from the window to check that the corridor was empty. Deserted as it was, he still chose to slip into a nearby classroom to get under the invisibility cloak. There was something about seeing his best friend mangled and burned to a crisp that had set him rather on edge. And when he set off towards the library, it was with his father's wand humming eagerly in his hand, warm and ready.

* * *

Ronald Weasley wiped his brow with the back of a forearm, feeling the weariness and the building headache start to take over. He could not recall a single day when he had spent so much time reading.

On his sister's attempt to burn all of Gryffindor House alive, Ron had fled to a place he had not yet visited on his own - the library. The librarian herself, Madam Pince, had given him a suspicious look as he arrived, as though he were likely to be here for vandalism rather than research. Looking around him at the pile of texts he had hidden behind, a small part of him wished that he was.

Searching for the beast had been a dead end, but with a regular Dueling Club in place, there was at least facility to practise combat spells. The chance of learning any useful magic from Lockhart was approximately the same as of Slytherin's monster being a hyper-violent chocolate frog, and so he had come to the only logical conclusion.

Discreetly drawing his wand, Ron mapped the described motion, diagonally down, across and then a small flick up. He clamped down on his urge to mutter the incantation 'expulso', but even still he could feel the unicorn tail hair turning hot with power. It would not help his standing with the librarian if he blew up the defensive magic section. Then again, it probably wouldn't be the first time.

A flicker caught his eye.

Ron felt his heart leap as he watched another slight refraction warp the air by elemental curses. That was surely Harry's invisibility cloak. He had seen that shimmer a million times. Could Harry have faked his death? Recovered? Escaped?

Ron was considering all the possibilities when Neville sat down next to him. The redhead had just opened his mouth to greet his friend when he noticed the impossible cloth glimmering in the boy's bag.

"You bastard," said Ron.

Neville frowned. "What now?"

Ron snarled at him, his vision tunneling. "His body isn't even cold, and you go nabbing his family heirlooms?"

"I'm not 'nabbing' it," said Neville. "Because he isn't dead."

Still apoplectic, Ron realised only then that he had turned his wand on his own friend. And Neville was calmly watching him.

"I'm sorry," said Ron, feeling his ears burning as he stowed the weapon. "But you didn't react at all?"

"I haven't got much left to lose," said Neville.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Nev, I..."

"Look, we've got an awful lot of work to do if we're going to solve this before someone actually does die," Neville asserted. "The cloak could be very useful, so yes I'm borrowing it. I'm sure he won't mind when we tell him about this year."

"Right," Ron said, his voice coming out strained. From what he had heard about Harry, he didn't want to get his hopes up that he might ever talk to him again.

Neville paid no heed to that, simply perusing the texts Ron had chosen. There were eleven combat-related texts, ranging from The Art of Duelling to Combat: Principia Vivis. Ron was currently looking through Offensive Charms and their Applications, and was apparently in the middle of explosive curses.

If the dark-haired boy didn't look happy, he at least seemed content.

"At least you haven't gone completely off the rails," Neville sighed. "With your sister destroying everything in her way and Hermione... Well, I couldn't bear you losing it too."

"What's happened with Ginny?" said Ron, his heart turning cold.

"Nothing much worse than what you saw," said Neville. "She somehow destroyed a good part of her dorm without a trace. A couple of the girls had to sleep in other rooms, and Hermione isn't in great shape."

Ron put down his book with a thud. "What are we doing, Neville? We're kids. Bloody hell, we only won last year cos Ginny was on our side and Harry still nearly died. Now we're there already and Ginny's gone bloody arse before face."

"We're fighting," Neville said calmly.

And that single sentiment broke through the haze of Ron's anger and despair. If they were too cowardly to fight for the chance of survival, for themselves, Harry and everyone else in Hogwarts, what did that make them? Freedom was not a right freely given. It needed to be earned.

"This is the Blasting Curse," said Ron.

* * *

They watched the rest of the school leave with both anticipation and no small measure of concern. Things were moving rapidly forward — too rapidly. With the Polyjuice Potion nearing completion and Hermione still intolerant even of the mention of Harry, their plans for the holiday looked far from secure. If another attack occurred they would have a vastly narrowed list of suspects. However, the chance that one of them would be on the receiving end seemed quite terrifyingly large.

To that end, Ron and Neville closed their first Christmas holiday breakfast not by walking back towards the Gryffindor Common Room, but in the other direction to the Head Table. There, they stopped a respectful distance from Headmaster Dumbledore in front of an almost empty Great Hall, all their classmates having already left for the train back to London. Neville could feel Hermione's eyes on his back all the way.

"Boys?" said Dumbledore amenably, steepling his fingers.

"Sir," said Ron. "We were wondering what will happen to the Duelling Club over the holiday."

"I am afraid that Professor Lockhart has other business that he must attend to over the holiday period," said Professor Dumbledore. "However, I am sure that if there were sufficient interest, Professors Flitwick or Snape might be persuaded to run the club in his stead."

"How many students would we need, sir?" said Neville, his stomach seizing at the idea of putting his safety in Snape's hands.

"That would be up to the professors in question," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "But I am sure that if you had a group of ten students they would consider it worth their while."

Neville immediately started doing a head count. The Weasleys provided five bodies all on their own, and if Hermione came they had seven…

Ron meanwhile had turned to look expectantly at Professor Flitwick, who sighed, putting aside his knife and fork.

"It has been a long time since I did any duelling myself," he said, "but if you are keen on the idea then I will do what I can to help you."

Neville's spirits soared. Being taught to fight by Professor Flitwick was more than he had even dared to dream.

They thanked the professors and headed back down into the nearly empty hall. There had been a massive rush to check out for the holiday after the attack on Justin, not so much because of there having been another attack as for Nick having been Petrified as well. Necromancy was hardly a common art, and the thought of a beast with magic that could affect the dead was hardly a welcome one. The only house whose members hadn't fled in blind panic was, predictably enough, Slytherin, although its younger members and some of the less pure-blooded among them still saw fit to take some time away from the threat of their patron's monster.

"Hey Hermione," said Neville.

Hermione looked up at him with bloodshot eyes that clearly hadn't seen much sleep recently. "Hi."

"How are you holding up?" Neville said, perching on the bench next to her.

Ron had attempted to engage Ginny in the meantime, but she was apparently unresponsive.

The response Hermione gave him was nothing more than a look.

"Look…"

"I know," said Hermione. "I don't mean to be rude, I just…"

Neville sighed. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Thanks. I guess… I'm not doing great, Neville."

"Yeah," Neville said, almost snarling. "The only ones who are ran off home to enjoy Christmas with mummy and daddy."

"Harry wasn't the first to…" Hermione croaked. "Plenty of them are suffering too."

"Yeah," said Neville, swallowing his contempt for their gawking peers. "Have you been eating at least?"

The brunette nodded shakily. "It's easier if I just… stick to my routine, you know?"

"That's good," said Neville, smiling encouragingly.

"Neville, I can't sleep," Hermione whispered. "Every time I close my eyes I just hear screaming, and I see…"

Neville put a hand on her back, and she shuddered under his touch. It was as though she were suppressing tears.

"Have you tried talking to Madam Pomfrey?" said Neville.

There was fear in those chocolate brown eyes when she looked up at him. "I can't go..."

"I'll ask her to meet you somewhere," Neville assured her.

"I can just find a charm or something," Hermione muttered.

Neville didn't particularly want to push her on anything considering her recent mental state, so he decided to shelve the plan for later.

"Whatever you say... Look, Hermione, there's something else I came to talk about. Flitwick's running the Duelling Club over Christmas, twice a week. Do you want to come along, to clear your head?"

Though her eyes had initially widened with surprise, she rapidly began to look hesitant.

"We're all finding our own ways of coping," Neville murmured. "Please."

Her face might have been pained, but Neville knew she would be there. In the end, she always was.

* * *

"Stay where you are."

The words were as ripples on a pond, echoing through the void. Where did they come from? Who spoke? Was the man talking to Harry, or someone yet unseen?

Harry did not know how long he had been adrift. Earth was barely a speck now amidst the vast darkness of space, but he could see it as clearly as if he were still floating amidst the satellites. Wherever he was, the cries of those long gone were no quieter here. In fact, they seemed to be getting steadily louder.

Why was he here? The longer he spent in this emptiness the more he knew there was something he had to do, and yet he had no idea what that might be. Looking at his hands, now unmarred by burns and broken bones, he knew what he wanted to do. But he was too far away now — too late. And Riddle had already proven to be Harry's better.

"You'll be safe there…"

If he could only figure out where the voice was coming from! Was this some deeper ploy by Dobby to keep him from Tom Riddle's clutches? Locking him away safely in some bubble of space-time, or another dimension?

Wherever the answers were, he did not think they could be found on Earth. Something yet called to him from across the cosmos — a voice that had no words. It was more than a sense of purpose, he now realised. It was comfort, and belonging. This was the sensation he had first encountered in the Gryffindor dormitory, surrounded by friends who appreciated him, in a world where he was free from cupboards and belts and boots.

Harry smiled, even as his view of Earth gently faded behind him.


	36. 36 - The Best Defence

Ginny was feeling more than slightly out of sorts. Walking up from the Great Hall alone after dinner, she found that somehow she could no longer simply accept the things that had been happening of late. Her memory lapses, waking up in suspicious places in questionable situations, and now Harry's near death... The only element that these things all shared was the diary. Tom Riddle's little black book had been in her hand every time she awakened. And she had found it on Harry's bedside table after the... incident.

At the time, she had not questioned it. What on earth could Tom have to do with any of those occurrences? However, he was a mind inside of a book. Perhaps borne of his position of responsibility dealing with cursed and enchanted items let loose among Muggles, one of the oldest lessons her father had taught her had been never to trust anything if she couldn't see where it kept its brain. He certainly would not have trusted the diary, and would have been most disappointed in Ginny for doing so.

Her stomach tied itself into an uncomfortable knot. For all the times she had deceived and defied her mother, Ginny almost never went against her father's wishes. And yet she didn't _want_ to distrust the boy in the black book. He was her solace and her sanctuary, and since Harry...

But that wasn't true. She'd been ignoring him, spurning him to spend time with Tom. And that made her feel dirty, cutting deeper even than anxiety over her father. Harry hadn't meant those things to her for a long time now. Was that why he had stolen the diary? The thought made her feel even worse about herself, and as she trudged up the stairs to her dormitory, she felt something tickle her cheek. She'd reached the top floor by the time she realised it was a tear.

The book was exactly where she had left it this time. Her breathing aggravated and her hand unsteady, Ginny lifted the cover.

"Hello again, Ginny. How are you holding up?"

"Not great."

"I am sorry, truly. How it must feel... If you want to talk I am always here."

"You haven't let me down before."

"I am glad. But I feel you do have something to say."

And there it was. Here was her opening, to challenge Tom and have the truth from him.

"Tom, I don't know what to do! I've had memory loss every time there's been an attack! And..."

"And?"

"And you're always right there in my hand when I wake up."

"You think I have had something to do with it?"

"Please, Tom, I need to believe..."

"When have I ever done anything to hurt you?"

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Fool girl! I do all I can to help you and this is how you repay me?"

"I won't do it again, Tom, I'm sorry!"

"Thank you."

Ginny took a deep breath. A bead of sweat rolled slowly down her temple. Though her questions remained unanswered, she realised how ungrateful she was being in accusing him even tacitly. But there was still a niggling feeling in the back of her head that she had misplayed the conversation in a far worse way than just being rude. _'What am I missing?'_

"You know I would never do anything to harm you, don't you?"

Ginny shivered, and she wasn't sure whether it was a pleasant one or not. Tom began writing again before she could put quill to parchment.

"You are my only link to the outside world. It is not an enjoyable experience to spend fifty years with only your own thoughts for company."

"I know, Tom. Please forgive me."

"Come now, Ginny. You need not ask for my forgiveness. Tell me of your day."

All of a sudden, Ginny realised that she had forgotten quite why she had been so rude. She knew only that it had been wrong of her. Why on earth would she question Tom?

* * *

Neville cracked his knuckles, fidgeting uncomfortably with his fingers as he walked up to the common room from the library. Now that he was preparing for what would likely be his first proper tutorial in wizarding combat, he felt a nervousness that he had not known for a while. In Harry's presence, he remembered feeling like problems were less oppressively formidable. Neville had been too busy since his best friend's demise to notice how anxious he should possibly be about everything that was happening. Now, though… Now his unconscious was free to torture him as it pleased. Waiting, it seemed, was the worst part.

On entering the common room, he was confronted with the sight of Ginny arriving from the other side — descending from her dormitory. And she was carrying a small, black book. Neville frowned, trying to remember why that was significant. He remembered halfway across the room, and the realisation almost decked him. Clamping down on his instinctive urge to tear the thing from her fingers and toss it into the fire, Neville took a breath and schooled his features, hoping he had not given himself away.

He was loathe to suspect her, but Ginny had been acting strangely all year. So had Harry, to be true, but that had been limited to his interactions with Ginny herself. Could Ginny have been responsible for Harry…

No.

If there was one thing Neville knew for certain, it was that Ginny would never willingly harm Harry.

But what if it wasn't of her own free will? What if there was more to this inconspicuous book than an uncanny ability to survive whatever had torn the boys' dormitory, and Harry Potter himself, to pieces?

She was at a conversational distance now, and Neville noted the strange expression on her face. It was not hostile — far from it, it was outwardly rather passive. And yet, there was a coldness in her eyes that was so very unlike Ginny that it made Neville pause.

"You want to head down for the Duelling Club meeting, I presume?"

Even her speech patterns were slightly changed. Unless her parents had been tutoring her in formal conduct over the summer, something Neville had entirely missed in her usual bubbly manner at the birthday parties and their other meet-ups, something was very different about Ginny Weasley. At last, Neville had found something to investigate. And he rather wished that he hadn't.

"Yeah," he said. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"I thought she was in the library, as usual," said Ginny.

"Huh," Neville frowned. "I was just there."

"I am sure we'll find her on the way down," Ginny said.

"We can leave in a few minutes," said Neville. "Ron will be up soon, he just wanted to go to the toilet."

Neville stood for a moment, his brain searching frantically for a natural progression to the conversation that didn't include the phrase 'is it you' or 'what's with the book'. He had decided that considering Harry and Ginny's general proficiency with making sure their enemies came out worse than they did, he didn't particularly want to get anywhere near the little fiend he suspected of defeating Harry so utterly.

Luckily for him, Ginny seemed lost in her own thoughts as well. Before the silence could get any more awkward, Hermione and Ron clambered in through the portrait hole, talking easily. It gladdened Neville that at least Hermione seemed to have recovered this much.

"They wanted to see some snow," Hermione shrugged. "I would have asked them to come to Scotland so we could see each other, but with everything going on…"

"Better that your parents are safe," said Ron.

"What about us?" said Hermione, sniffling slightly.

"We're handling that," said Neville. "Let's go."

The walk down to the Great Hall went by markedly faster when they were joined by the twins, who wasted no time in derailing their conversation with a series of Flitwick impressions. Hermione's indignation was just reaching breaking point when they reached the vast double doors. Within was Professor Flitwick, with a growing group of students waiting. Neville noted Percy standing with a blonde Ravenclaw prefect he didn't recognise, though Fred and George's eyes lit up with glee.

Also present was Luna, which gladdened Neville. He hadn't been sure how to go about inviting her, especially with the strange way Ginny was behaving, but she had come along with two of the Ravenclaw girls in their year — Su and Padma. Though he didn't know her well, and her father had something of a reputation, a friend of Ginny's was a friend of his.

Hufflepuff had only a small denomination of older years Neville didn't recognise. The attack upon Justin had apparently scared the younger students enough that they had all run to safety. Not that Neville could really blame them — the idea of hearing that Hogwarts was being closed for investigation from the comfort of the family home sounded a lot more attractive than playing sleuth within its walls.

And so it was that even with all the other houses combined, Slytherin were not quite outnumbered. Malfoy and friends were conspicuously absent in the little sea of green at the far side of the crowd, most of whom were older students. It seemed as though the majority of those who had stayed over the holiday had come, either to get some actual tuition for a change from Lockhart's fumbling efforts, or to see Flitwick's reported skill as a duelist. Neville wouldn't complain about either.

"Order yourselves into lines of five," said Professor Flitwick. "And be sure to leave plenty of room between the rows."

Falling into the second row, Neville stood ready and at attention. Flitwick was making up for his diminutive size by standing atop a simple-looking platform which appeared to be a less dressy version of the duelling stage Professor Lockhart had erected. Further distinguishing him was his choice of clothing. Rather than his usual dark green robes, the professor was wearing black robes cut to never impede movement, secured in place with leather and steel armour. The garment ended at the knee, with sharp detailing and a minimalist approach to the armour plating that made it look more stylish than a lot of dress robes Neville had seen people wear. It would certainly be more practical in a fight.

"The duelling arena is the home of civilised combat amongst wizards," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "For hundreds of years the best men and women of our country and countless others have tested their skill against one another on platforms such as these. But do not step into the arena lightly! You are training for combat! And should you need to use these skills out in the world, there will be no Containment charms or suppression fields to keep you from harm."

Many of the students, particularly the younger ones, were looking at each other with varying degrees of alarm. This was nothing like Professor Lockhart's 'sessions', but neither was this the Flitwick they knew.

"As such," the professor went on, "what is the first rule of combat?"

For once in her life, Hermione looked utterly lost. Neville was among the few to raise his hand.

Professor Flitwick looked at him. The professor was holding himself straight and stern, but there was a familiar warmth in his eyes. "Mr. Longbottom?"

"Don't get hit."

Neville felt all his nerves being washed away as Flitwick took them through repeated footwork exercises, trying to make them more agile. The patterns were strange, almost alien in their nature, but Flitwick demonstrated them with an ease and grace that would turn a dancer green.

However, not everybody shared his enthusiasm. He could hear the muttering getting slowly louder as Flitwick continued to drill them on footwork, until finally…

"A moment, children," said Professor Flitwick amenably. "I believe I hear a problem?"

Silence fell. Flitwick was far too well liked for anyone to openly speak their minds, but even Ron looked a little miffed.

"I take it this lesson has rather fewer loud bangs and dramatic happenings than some of you were hoping for," Flitwick said, sounding increasingly amused. "Rosier!"

A tall seventh year boy with dark eyes and hair stepped forward. "Professor?"

"Join me on the platform, if you please," said the tiny professor. "I understand that you do not appreciate the relevance of what it is I am teaching you."

"I didn't say that, sir…" Rosier said uncomfortably.

"No, I believe your exact words were 'what in aether is this nonsense'," Flitwick smiled, his eyes dancing.

Rosier's cheeks pinked slightly, but he was not cowed by the sniggers from his peers.

"I believe a demonstration is in order," said Professor Flitwick. "You are well versed in numerous offensive charms, Rosier. Use them."

"I'm sorry, professor?" the boy frowned.

"I will not retaliate," the charms professor sighed. "Try to hit me, child."

Rosier took a few seconds, as if unsure he had heard the professor correctly, before slowly raising his wand. The assembled students breathed in as one.

" _Stupefy!_ "

Neville smirked. Flitwick had sidestepped so smoothly, it was as if he hadn't even moved.

The seventh year stared for a moment down the length of his wand. His brow furrowed. " _Stupefy! Stupefy! Flipendo! Expelliarmus!_ "

Each spell cleanly missed its target, and class was growing more and more enthralled with every cast. Irritated and ashamed, the Slytherin drew back his wand.

" _Ventus!_ " Rosier incanted.

A concentrated jet of air blasted across the platform. Professor Flitwick did not dodge this time, merely raising his wand and letting the wind pass harmlessly around him.

"As Mr. Rosier just demonstrated," said Flitwick, still seeming utterly amused, "not every spell can be dodged. However, being able to maintain balance and control without straining yourself with unnecessary defensive magic will put the pressure back on your opponent!"

"I am sorry, professor," said Rosier.

"Whatever for?" Professor Flitwick chuckled. "I did ask you to attack me, did I not? Thank you for your help, Icanas."

Icanas Rosier left the platform to laughter and back-slapping from his friends.

"Now, again," said Flitwick. "Ensure that your feet always return to the same position, so you are always ready to move instantaneously."

After a clear hour of footwork, most of the group were clearly flagging, but nobody was complaining anymore. And when Flitwick started them in on the correct stances with which to hold their wands, nobody said a word to the contrary.

"Thank you all for coming," said Professor Flitwick. The tired, but happily chattering students were slowly filtering out after the two hour session, leaving only Neville and his Gryffindor friends behind. "Have a good night's sleep now."

"We'll see you guys later," said Fred.

"Yeah," George grinned. "A certain prefect…"

"Needs some _attention_ from his brothers," Fred finished.

Ron groaned. "Those two almost make me wish I never have a girlfriend."

"Buuuuut…" Neville teased.

Ron laughed, shoving his shoulder.

"Neville," said Hermione.

Ron waved two fingers at Neville in a kind of mocking salute, turning to follow Ginny back to the common room.

"I wanted to thank you, Neville," the brunette said softly. "For convincing me to come along."

"I'm your friend, Hermione," said Neville. "I won't abandon you."

A small, grateful smile showed Neville some peace and happiness in the girl for the first time since the attack.

"You were right about this," she said. "It helps, distracts you…"

"I'm hoping for a hell of a lot more than a distraction," said Neville, smiling slightly.

"Yes..." Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. Neville snorted. "But I feel better after that, you know?"

"Lighter," said Neville.

"Yeah…"

"Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, could you kindly leave the hall?" said Professor Flitwick. "I need to restore it to its normal layout."

"Sorry, professor," said Neville.

They were the only ones left. Taking a seat on the stairs up towards the Grand Staircase, Neville patted the stone next to him.

"You're doing this so you can hunt down the attacker," said Hermione.

"No," said Neville. "I'm doing it so that if whoever is doing this comes after someone else I care about, I'll be ready for them."

Hermione sniffed, brushing her bushy brown hair out of her face. "You've changed, you know."

"Maybe," said Neville, a smile pulling at his eyes. "I think Harry just taught me that I didn't need to be afraid."

"Are you not?" she said.

Neville looked at her strangely. She was incredulous. "I'm terrified. But if I want to do my part, I can't curl into a ball."

Hermione chewed delicately at her lower lip. "You're right. I know you are. But I just…"

"We are all taking this at our own pace," said Neville.

"I haven't given up," said Hermione firmly.

"I never thought you would," the young wizard grinned, gently shoving her shoulder.

"Oh put a sock in it," Hermione smiled. "I'm trying to say that I kept working on the potion."

The Polyjuice Potion. Their one way of proving that Draco Malfoy was the culprit. The one thing that Neville no longer thought was necessary to their quest.

"I'm glad," said Neville.

Hermione was not fooled. "You have another lead, don't you?"

Neville gritted his teeth. "Maybe. I don't have a whole lot to go on, but…"

"Sounds like more than we already have," Hermione said urgently.

"Hermione…" said Neville. "Have you seen Ginny with a little black book?"

Her eyes widened momentarily. "Yes! I… that was really strange."

"What was?" Neville frowned.

"It's as though I… Never mind," she said. "Must be my mind playing tricks on me. What about the book?"

Unconvinced, Neville had to restrain from pushing her on the subject. He didn't need to make Hermione uncomfortable now. "Would you do me a favour and ask Ginny about it?"

"What do we need to know?" she said.

"Anything," Neville shrugged. "Just go for small stuff like where she got it and what she's using it for. Things that seem like normal conversation."

His bushy-haired friend turned to him with a small, determined smile. "I'll do my part."

* * *

Hermione and Ginny were the only girls left in their dormitory. As such, Hermione would have been surprised to find Ginny already up there, even disregarding her usual propensity to wander. This was not the Ginny she knew.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she was furiously scribbling in her little black book. In spite of Hermione's best efforts, and many other of Ginny's friends besides, the redhead's only major social interaction recently appeared to have the been the little leather-backed volume. Hermione felt a terrible sadness as she watched her friend, who had not so long ago been the bright centre of the year group. For not only was she entirely engrossed in this book that had stolen her attentions, but the expression on Ginny's face — that unbridled happiness — was something that had been reserved for Harry alone. And Hermione couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione said.

Her friend looked up suddenly, as if she had not realised that Hermione had entered the room. Perhaps she truly hadn't.

"Hermione!" said Ginny. "Um… what's up?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm quite content really. That was a good lesson."

"Yeah," Ginny said, returning to the book.

Hermione shook her head slightly, still unused to this new, introverted Ginny. "You're always writing in that. Is it a journal?"

"Yes, it's my diary," Ginny nodded. "I got it over the summer."

"We do have plenty to write about," Hermione snickered. It didn't get a reaction. Hurt and confused, Hermione exhaled forcefully. "Ginny, you're spending all your time with that dratted thing! You've stopped talking to your friends!"

Finally, she looked back up at Hermione. And the bushy-haired witch froze. For in Ginny's eyes was not sorrow or surprise or contrition. In fact, there was no emotion whatsoever — just a little smile that did nothing to engender happiness in Hermione. The smile terrified her, as in that moment she realised that she was more than simply shocked. Ginny had Immobilised her.

 _'_ _What are you DOING?'_

Hermione couldn't scream. She could not so much as whimper.

"You are so very troublesome, Miss Granger," said Ginny. "I modify your memory again and again and yet you keep coming back. I must say I admire your perseverance, but I cannot be envious of your luck."

Panic had begun to set in. Whoever she was talking to, it clearly wasn't Ginny. She needed to get away somehow — tell Neville and the headmaster. If Ginny was being possessed…

And then, in Hermione's fear-driven mind, everything clicked into place. Ginny spending all her time with the book, disappearing whenever there was an attack, being possessed — it was her. And just like that, the fight went straight out of her.

"Yes…" Ginny hissed. "I think I'll make a special case of you. You shan't recall this conversation, but I rather hope that when you meet my pet, in that brief moment when your eyes connect, you remember the fear you feel now."

And just like that, everything went black.

* * *

Harry might have been floating for hours or years. Time had been immaterial for him while that whisper, that feeling, had reached out to draw him across the cosmos. Alas, the more he chased it the further it faded — an oasis in the desolation of space. Harry now felt the true burden of his loneliness as time stretched infinitely before him.

"Where am I?" Harry called. "What's happening to me?"

Again, his voice merely echoed within his skull, escaping no further than the tip of his tongue. At this point, he could barely hear it over the sound of souls long gone. He could feel their grief now, a weight upon his mind that he could not overcome. Why had he followed that feeling here? Looking around him, he could not even see the stars. And that was when terror gripped him. When had he left his own reality for this bleak darkness?

It was difficult, as though he were being swept along a raging current, but Harry turned to look back the way he came. A bright light, small and distant, was shining behind him. And as he looked, it brought with it more than just that sense of his destiny calling to him. He felt hope. The moment he willed it, he was rushing backwards. The universe, a strange, distinct ball of lights and vague shapes, was swelling to consume him once more, surrounding him with the light of the stars and returning him to the familiarity of Earth.

Harry sighed in inaudible relief. He had forgotten how much he wanted to return to his own body. However, looking down upon himself, just healed to the point of being barely recognisable as human, he decided that he wasn't ready just yet. Instead he looked back out across the cosmos. That sense of destiny was still calling to him. If only he could separate it from that seductive feeling that had drawn him… wherever it had been taking him. Harry couldn't imagine that he'd been headed anywhere good.

"Hey, wait for me!"

This voice was new. A young boy. Was he somehow a witness to a conversation between people he could not see?

Listening carefully, Harry tried to detect anything besides the background noise of the dead. They were far quieter here, floating above that strange, detached portion of the hospital wing that seemed to have followed him up among the stars. And in this more peaceful environment, he did hear something. Harry could not follow what he heard, though. For the voice came from within his own mind. With a terrified start, he realised what exactly it was that he was listening to.

 ** _'_** ** _You are so very troublesome, Miss Granger. I modify your memory again and again and yet you keep coming back. I must say I admire your perseverance, but I cannot be envious of your luck.'_**

It was Ginny's voice, but Harry could hear Riddle within it. And he heard Riddle's thoughts as the boy exulted in Harry's defeat, gloating internally as he prepared to crush another of Harry's friends under his boot heel. Every ounce of his being screamed in protest, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up and pummel the diary-spirit until he left Harry's friends alone. But as he looked down upon his own body, The Boy Who Barely Lived despaired. If he were to return now, he wouldn't be capable of standing, or even twiddling his fingers. So he listened. Harry listened as Riddle sifted through Hermione's memories, laughing at her as he changed her thoughts and feelings to suit his whim. And for the first time at Hogwarts, Harry felt powerless.

Gritting his teeth against his anger and grief, Harry turned back to the stars. He could not help his friends in his state. But if he fulfilled whatever purpose was calling him, perhaps he might have the strength to face Riddle when he did return.

Reaching out with his unconscious, Harry somehow knew instinctively where he needed to go. And this time, he kept an eye on home. But just as he began racing away from Earth, that extraordinary echoing began again, like he was hearing voices in a sewer pipe.

"Anakin, stay where you are."

Nobody Smurf: They will indeed, sir. And an Architect Dumbledore may be, but that's not the crossover you're looking for :)

Luminatrix: Again, appreciated :)

stars90: Cheers!


	37. 37 - The Boy Who Played With Spiders

Neville sighed deeply as he crossed the threshold into the Owlery. He had barely lent a thought to Hedwig while he had been racing about, busy with thoughts of fighting, and of hunting down Harry's attacker. And to his knowledge, nobody else had thought to check in on Harry's devoted familiar. Hedwig was an intelligent bird, even by owl standards, therefore Neville thought it highly unlikely that the Snowy had not realised that something had happened to her master.

Around him, hundreds of owls ruffled their feathers. It was early morning, and most of them were tucking in to sleep for the day. Frowning, Neville searched their ranks for Hedwig's distinctive, pure white plumage. She apparently wasn't on the first floor. Five minutes later, Neville had reached the top level and was starting to get frustrated in spite of himself. Hedwig was absolutely nowhere to be found.

Putting his hands on his hips and throwing his head back in exasperation, Neville was startled by a shock of white against one of the support beams. There perched Harry's owl, her head tucked under her wings.

" _Hedwig!_ " Neville breathed.

The bird did not move to acknowledge him, but a great shudder passed through her. Now that he was here, Neville had no idea what he had planned on saying.

"Hedwig, I'm so sorry…" Neville tried. "We…"

With a flash of feathers, Hedwig dived down at him, a fury of talons and wings.

"Aargh!" Neville cried, shielding his face with his arms. "Hedwig, please! I'm _trying_ to hunt down whoever did this to him!"

With one final, angry cry Hedwig flew to the other side of the room. There she perched on the windowsill, staring balefully at him.

Neville's robes had taken much of the injury for him, but he could feel the torn skin on his face and hands, and the blood starting to trickle from his cuts. Putting the back of his hand gingerly to a particularly irritating cut by his lip, he grimaced at the pain and hurriedly withdrew.

"Hedwig," said Neville, sighing softly. "Harry is not dead. He _will_ recover. You know that better than most."

Hedwig barked at him, but he couldn't be sure what she was trying to say.

"Were you anywhere nearby when he was attacked?" said Neville. "Can you help me find who or what did this to him and bring vengeance upon them?"

Hedwig barked again, angry but to Neville's mind — approving.

"You saw what happened to him?" said Neville hopefully.

Hedwig shook her head, shrieking morosely.

"Dammit," Neville cursed under his breath. If Hedwig had confirmed the book to be behind it, he would have had his mark. Now he would have to wait on Hermione to confirm or deny his suspicions. "Hedwig… Would you like to visit Harry?"

The bird stared into his eyes for a long moment, weighing him with her gaze. Just as Neville was about to open his mouth, Hedwig bobbed her head, barking quietly.

Neville offered his arm, and after another few seconds, she fluttered over to perch close to his wrist.

They walked to the hospital wing in silence through the falling snow. It irritated Neville's cuts something silly, but he ignored the pain, gritting his teeth. It was nothing to what Harry had been put through, and they had suffered far worse injuries for each other.

When Neville knocked on the infirmary door, Madam Pomfrey once more was there in seconds, alarm written all over her soft features. It immediately faded on seeing Neville.

"You want to see him again?" she asked, not unkindly.

Neville nodded. "I'll keep coming back until he wakes up."

"That is… admirable of you, Mr. Longbottom," said Madam Pomfrey. "Must you bring the owl?"

"She's his familiar," said Neville.

"I recognise her," the healer nodded. "Fine. But I won't have this facility turned into a coop, you understand? There are standards I must keep."

"She won't make a mess," Neville promised.

"And your face?" said Madam Pomfrey, drawing her wand.

"Oh, it's nothing," Neville said dismissively, not wanting to suggest anything to Hedwig.

" _Synarma lougis,_ " Madam Pomfrey incanted. "Now it's nothing."

Neville jumped as all the cuts sealed over, leaving nothing but a slight tenderness to confirm that they had ever been there in the first place.

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Neville, slightly surprised.

Madam Pomfrey waved off his gratitude with a small smile, shutting the door behind him and turning to attend to Harry.

"He's hurt bad, Hedwig," Neville whispered. "We mustn't touch him."

Hedwig barked shakily, and he stroked the back of her neck as best he could.

"It'll be alright," said Neville.

Madam Pomfrey caught his eye and nodded.

Walking forward through the curtain, Neville was once more near-overwhelmed by the state of Harry. Neville wasn't so unbalanced as not to recognise the progress that was being made, though. No longer were there any bones lying utterly disconnected from the body. Tendons and ligaments at the very least had regrown to hold everything in place, and Madam Pomfrey had been able to remove the clothes he had been wearing and replace them with a kind of magical gown that appeared to be completely insubstantial, protecting his dignity but incapable of hindering the healing process.

Hedwig had not been prepared thus. Her talons digging into Neville's arm, she barked in panic and protest at the condition of her master. Gritting his teeth, Neville allowed her to vent. She moved to fly to Harry's side, but Neville put a warning finger on her back. Turning to look imploringly back at him, Hedwig made a sound almost like squawking, and Neville felt his heart seize.

"He _will_ recover, Hedwig," Neville said. "He just… we can't touch him."

Hedwig turned back to her incapacitated friend. If owls could cry, there would have been tears streaming through her feathers, for Hedwig was making sounds so full of pain it felt as though knives were working through his chest.

"He's going to be alright," he said, sniffing. "It'll be alright."

When they left the hospital wing, Hedwig had quieted, but she was still inconsolable. Nothing Neville said or did could bring her head back out from under her wing.

"Neville Longbottom."

Neville looked up, startled, to find Luna Lovegood of all people walking towards him.

"Hey, Luna," he said. "How are you doing?"

"He is not looking well, is he?" she said, a hint of sadness seeping into her normally airy tone.

Neville sighed. "He's healing quickly, at least. I'm hopeful."

"That is good," said Luna. Neville had the strange feeling she was speaking more of his own mental state than Harry's recovery. "Come with me, Neville Longbottom."

Shaking his head at her bemusing behaviour, Neville followed her up onto the fifth floor and into a secret passage.

"You are hunting down the attacker," Luna said. It was not a question.

"I'll make them pay," Neville said firmly. "And if they're the same person responsible for opening the Chamber, they won't be doing that ever again. I swear it."

"Good," said Luna. "But remember how dangerous is the road you walk. You cannot. Trust. Anyone."

"What?" Neville frowned.

"Remember my words, Neville Longbottom," Luna said. They were seeming more ominous to Neville with every second that passed.

"Do you know something?" Neville said urgently.

Luna shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Be swift and strong. And do not trust anyone. Good luck."

And then she was gone.

Neville gaped after her. What was her game? Was she taunting him?

With a deep sigh, Neville left the passage on a sixth floor exit, heading out onto an external walkway atop the castle wall.

"This is just one terrible mess," Neville said miserably. "We're children!"

Hedwig barked softly from his arm.

Blinking snow out of his eyes, Neville brushed the hair out of his face. "Be strong for him, Hedwig. We all have to be strong for Harry."

* * *

Neville did not feel better, per se, as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. Hedwig had flown back off to the owlery, still gripped by grief, but Neville felt more fulfilled in his duty to his friend.

"Silence sibilance," Neville said.

The Fat Lady admitted him without ceremony, offering him a consoling look. He could hear her talking sombrely to her friend, whose name Neville hadn't bothered to keep track of. More curious to him was Hermione's presence in the common room, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace with a book. There was nobody else around to be seen.

"Hermione," he said in greeting.

"Hi," she said, putting down the book. It was a text on the defensive use of charms, apparently specialising in their use in wards. As such it was essentially idle reading material for the girl. "I was wondering where you could be."

"You talked to Ginny then?" Neville said, his wand thrumming under his forearm.

Hermione sighed. "Yes. It's just a diary, Neville. There's nothing special about it."

"Oh," Neville frowned.

"There must be something," said Hermione. "Whatever did that to Harry, you'll find them."

"Yeah…" said Neville, heading up to the boys' dormitory. "Thanks, Hermione."

 _Do not trust anyone._

Neville found that he didn't trust Hermione's words one little bit. And as he walked up the stairs, he cursed Luna's name. For Hermione was the one person Neville needed to trust the most.

Nothing about it had smelled right. The Hermione he knew would never have dismissed the book based purely on it being a diary. Not to mention the casual way she talked about Harry. No, something had gone very wrong. And it only served to confirm what Neville already knew. But he had a problem now. The book had somehow manipulated Hermione into trying to persuade Neville that it was a mere diary, which meant it had a hold over her. And if that were the case, Neville sneaking around and avoiding her would alert it very quickly to the fact that he no longer trusted her. Which meant that he would have to do double duty. In spite of Luna's words, he knew that now, more than ever, he could not do this alone.

As he collapsed through the door of the dormitory, he was gladdened to see Ron awake.

"Hey Neville," Ron said, nodding to him. "How'd it go?"

"As well as I expected," said Neville. "Madam Pomfrey healed me though."

"That bad, huh?" Ron winced.

"She'll cope," Neville sighed. "But we might have bigger problems."

"Hit me," Ron said. He could from Ron's grimace that the boy was serious.

"Looks like the book is the real threat," Neville said. "And it has a hold over Ginny…"

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"And possibly Hermione too," Neville added, feeling the raw weight of guilt settle on his shoulders. If he hadn't asked Hermione to snoop around…

Ron's eyes widened. "No…"

"I know," said Neville.

Ron shook his head. "No, we can't do this without _Hermione_! Harry maybe. Ginny at a bloody stretch. Hermione?!"

"Look we just don't have a choice, alright?" Neville said. "But whatever power this thing has it can mess with both of their heads and turn Harry into a smoking husk, so we cannot afford for it to find out that we're on its case."

Ron stared at him, mouth hanging agape. With a final shake of his head, Ron buried his face in his hands.

"This cannot be happening," Ron said.

"Ron," said Neville. "Are you with me?"

"Of course I'm bloody with you," said Ron. "I was just hoping to be up against slightly less stupid odds is all."

"Well, have you got any ideas?" said Neville hopefully.

There was a strained stretch of silence as they both just looked at each other.

"Yeah…" said Ron. "Yeah, actually I do. Let's go see Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Neville said incredulously. "I know he's fond of his monsters, but I doubt he's best buds with whatever's hiding out in the Chamber."

"I'm not that thick," said Ron. Neville felt a smile tugging at his lips for the first time in too long. "He's been at Hogwarts forever. He was working here back when Mum and Dad were at school."

"You think he might remember something from last time it was opened," Neville gasped.

"See?" Ron said. "And besides, I'd much rather get a pity party from Hagrid. He's less likely to tell my parents I need to go home and cool off or whatever."

"Now there's a chessmaster strategy," said Neville.

"Oh get knotted, you tosspot," Ron said, smirking slightly.

"The question is how to get past Hermione without her realising we're doing something," said Neville.

"If you're sure about that…" Ron tried. "Bloody hell. Fine. Invisibility cloak. Come on, we don't need her for _everything_."

They snuck out past a 'reading' Hermione who was glancing surreptitiously towards the boys' staircase every ten seconds. Never had they been so glad of the little lobby area between the common room and the portrait. Hermione would have noticed the Fat Lady opening for phantom students in no time.

"You were right!" Ron hissed as they reached the fifth floor.

"Of course I was right," Neville said sourly. "You think I wanted to lose _her_?"

"Nah," said Ron. "Just… it's getting to be way too much way too fast. If one of _us_ goes, we've had it."

"Well, we just won't let that happen," said Neville.

They broke out into the powdery snow in a flurry of tickly snowflakes. It was only falling heavier as time passed, and while Ron was able to snuggle comfortably into his winter robes, Neville's cuts only stung worse when he tried to touch anything. Even the mere feel of his sleeve against them was becoming more than simply irritating. Leaning back against a support on the bridge, he focused his mind on the cuts on his face and hands.

"What are...?" said Ron. "Woah! Neat."

Blinking his eyes open, Neville looked down at the palms of his hands. Not a trace of his injuries remained.

"Huh," Neville grunted. "Now if you know the Warming Charm, our problems are solved."

"Don't be daft," Ron snorted. "That's Hermione's job."

"Yeah," said Neville. "It was."

And so it was a bitterly cold pair of Gryffindors who knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. Their huge friend appeared almost silhouetted in the doorway, a fire raging behind him, making the hut so invitingly warm that Neville almost trembled as it touched his face.

"Get in 'ere then," Hagrid smiled. "Me hut's gettin' cold."

Ron and Neville did not need to be told twice. They soon found space on the sofa, and Ron soon found Fang the boarhound slobbering all over his knee.

"So," said Hagrid. "How're you two gettin' on?"

"We're dealing with it," said Neville.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Helps to keep busy."

Hagrid sniffed. "I never thought I'd hear…"

"Hagrid," Neville said firmly. "He's going to be alright."

He rather felt like he was spending half of his life reassuring people of this. Only now did it dawn on him that there was nobody there anymore to reaffirm his own convictions.

"He's James's son," said Hagrid. "O' course he'll be alrigh'."

"Hagrid, we came because we really need to talk to you about something," said Ron.

"Eh?" said Hagrid. "I'm always 'ere, yeh know tha'."

"Hagrid," Neville said gently. "We've been keeping busy by investigating. We wanted to talk to you about the Chamber."

"Wha…?" said Hagrid. "I… I don' know nothin' abou' that."

 _'_ _Of course you don't,'_ Neville mused.

"But it _was_ opened before," said Ron. "Mum and Dad said you've been here since before they came as kids."

"Musta bin before my time," Hagrid said gruffly. "I tell yeh, boys, I don' know nuthin about it."

Hagrid couldn't even meet their eyes, looking sullenly at the ground and windows. Fang whined at the big man. His eyes clouding over, Neville got to his feet, startling everyone.

"Hagrid!" Neville shouted, enraged. "Slytherin's monster has free reign of the castle, and Harry is lying almost dead in the hospital wing! Have you _been_ to see him? When they brought him back he was burned so badly the bones were _literally_ falling out of his body!"

Hagrid stared helplessly at Neville throughout his tirade, unmoving. A few seconds passed in silence. Surprised at the force of his own outburst, Neville was just trying to calm his now heavy breathing when Hagrid burst into loud tears.

"I'm _sorry_!" he cried. "I didn' want ter… Drat. Yeh deserve ter know."

Neville and Ron shared mystified, helpless looks.

"It wasn' him," Hagrid swore. "He would never…"

"Hagrid," said Ron, putting a comforting hand on the big man's shoulder. Even with Hagrid seated, it was not an easy task. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Hagrid sniffed. "Yeah… Yeah, alrigh'. It was abou' fifty years ago now."

Neville's eyes went wide. Much as he respected Ron, he hadn't expected his friend to be so close to the mark.

"It was attacks, same as now, but more often," Hagrid sniffed. "Six students Petrified. The seventh…"

"No…" Neville groaned.

"She never did nothin' ter anyone," said Hagrid mournfully. "Other bloody girls gave her hell the whole time she was 'ere. Sorry afterwards, o' course, when they found 'er in tha' bathroom, but what diff'rence did tha' make?"

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed sullenly.

"Which bathroom?" Neville frowned.

"Firs' floor," Hagrid said dismissively. "She's still 'ere. Not very chatty, bu'…"

Neville stared at Hagrid for a moment, wondering how exactly that was appropriate. Then it hit him with the force of a Bludger to the face.

"Myrtle!" Neville exclaimed.

"Tha's 'er," Hagrid said heavily. "Dunno why she came back, to be honest with yeh. She deserved the rest after what 'Ogwarts put 'er through. What they told the parents…"

"Hagrid," said Neville. "What do you know of the monster?"

"I' wasn' Aragog!" Hagrid said suddenly. "An' they bloody knew it too, or they'd've 'unted 'im."

"Aragog?" Ron frowned.

Hagrid sighed. This clearly was not his day. "After she died, one o' the prefects found me with an Acromantula."

"You _bloody_ what?" Ron exclaimed, jumping away in terror.

"What were you doing with a giant talking spider?" Neville said, exasperated.

"One o' the folks down in Hogsmeade had an egg when I went down there the firs' time," said Hagrid. "'E told me it was an exotic spider from the East that would grow to the size of an Abraxan… He said one of 'em could chase off an elephant, and they could bring one _down_ in a pack."

Neville shook his head, incredulous. "Hagrid, why did you keep one in a school? They treat humans as a delicacy!"

"'E promised he wouldn' ever hurt a human!" said Hagrid. "And he never has!"

Sighing, Neville wondered if Hagrid would ever gain a sense of responsibility around deadly creatures.

"So, what happened?" said Ron.

"The prefect, Riddle, tried to kill Aragog," Hagrid growled. "My boy was too fast for 'im though. Knocked him right on his pretty-boy arse he did. Fled to the Forest. Bu' Riddle told the 'eadmaster, and I was expelled, wand snapped, and the attacks stopped so they all jus' pretended like nuthin 'appened. Like a girl hadn't bin murdered in the toilet!"

Neville gaped.

"Hagrid, if the attacks stopped when your spider…" Ron began.

"No," Neville interjected. "Acromantula cannot Petrify. That's why Hagrid isn't in Azkaban. Whoever was doing it got in too deep and used Hagrid as a way out."

"And now they're back?" said Ron.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore," said Neville.

"Dumbledore knows everythin' already," said Hagrid. "Made old Professor Dippet take me on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore…"

"Surely he must be able to narrow down the suspects if he knows all this," Neville frowned.

"It could've been _anyone_ ," said Ron. Fang finally took this opportunity to return his head to Ron's lap.

"It had to be an Heir of Slytherin," said Neville. "An Heir of Slytherin who was at Hogwarts fifty years ago."

"Well, this is going to be easy," Ron muttered. "Let's talk to Myrtle, see what she's got."

"If it helps yeh," said Hagrid. "Aragog never told me what the monster was. But he said it's somethin' spiders fear more'n anythin'."

"Something _giant spiders_ are terrified of?" Ron whimpered. "Great. That's just great."

* * *

"You know…" said Neville speculatively as they walked through the first floor. "Talking about Acromantula reminded me of something."

"How much you really don't want to talk about Acromantula?" Ron suggested.

Neville snorted. "Remember when we first started snooping around? When Percy caught us coming out of Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "And what?"

"And, we saw a bunch of spiders," said Neville. "They were scrambling up the wall, remember? Trying to get out through that crack."

"Yes, I remember," said Ron uneasily. "You don't want to follow them?"

"I don't need to," Neville smiled. "I know where they were going."

"Yeah, away from us," said Ron.

Neville sighed. "Aragog told Hagrid that the monster in the Chamber is the thing spiders fear most."

"So they're running away from the Chamber?" said Ron. "Unless we can trace the webs all the way to the entrance I don't see how that helps."

"For one thing, it confirms what Hagrid was saying," said Neville. "Which means we should be able to narrow down what this beast is."

"Dumbledore should too," said Ron. "He knows about the Petrifying thing _and_ the spiders thing."

"And he's known for fifty years!" Neville fumed. "So why isn't he _doing_ anything?"

"Hey, we don't know that," Ron consoled. "Maybe he's setting some kind of trap right now."

"For the monster?" asked Neville. "Or for us?"

Ron looked at him sharply, but Neville turned into Myrtle's bathroom, utterly ignoring him.

Within, Neville could hear quiet sniffling. "Myrtle?"

"This is a _girls'_ bathroom!" she said shrilly, flying out in front of them so quickly they both took an instinctive step back. A moment passed before Neville realised that he had launched his wand into his hand. But upon seeing them, she apparently recognised them, turning sullen. "Oh, I remember you two. Of course _you_ don't care."

Neither Neville nor Ron could come up with a counter to that. But Myrtle's countenance shifted once more from sullen to shy.

"Have you… Is Harry coming too?" she said. "The other girl won't talk about him."

"Err…" said Neville. "Maybe we can talk about Harry in a minute. We wanted to ask you something."

"Do you remember how you died?" said Ron.

Neville almost lambasted him for his bluntness, but from the way Myrtle's face lit up he decided against it.

"Oh _yes_!" said Myrtle. "Harry was asking about that too!"

"Really…" Neville mused. If anything, that seemed to confirm the idea that the same person who had attacked Harry was behind the opening of the Chamber.

"I died right over there," she said, pointing at the stall in question. "In that stall."

"You died on the crapper?" Ron said, incredulous.

"Don't be stupid," said Myrtle, angry to have been interrupted.

"Hey, it could happen," Ron grinned.

Neville put a hand out to shut him up. "Sorry Myrtle, you were saying?"

"I was hiding," Myrtle carried on, glaring at Ron. "Olive Hornby was teasing me again, about my glasses, so I locked myself in so I could cry in peace. But then I heard a _boy_ come in. And I know it was a boy because he was saying something in some strange language, I don't know what it was, but I got out to tell him to go use his own toilet…"

Myrtle straightened, beaming like she had won an award. "And then I died."

"You just died," said Neville. "No spell, no sword, no slipping on a wet flagstone and cracking your head?"

Myrtle gave him a curious look. "No. Just a pair of huge yellow eyes. My body just sort of seized up, you know? Then I was floating away…"

"Hmm," said Neville. "That _is_ helpful. Thank you, Myrtle."

"Where were the eyes?" said Ron.

Myrtle looked rather put out, like she had had more to say, but she pointed towards the central sink unit.

Neville and Ron moved over to investigate.

"What did the boy's voice sound like?" said Neville. "Do you remember?"

"Strange…" said Myrtle. "A high pitched kind of hissing or something."

"Parseltongue," Ron said, starting.

"Explains why nobody has found the Chamber yet," Neville agreed in an undertone.

"What are you two whispering about?" said Myrtle suspiciously.

"Just wondering what kind of language has a lot of hissing in it," said Ron.

"I don't know," said Myrtle. "You still haven't told me where Harry is."

"He…" said Ron, faltering.

"He's in the hospital wing, Myrtle," said Neville. "He got attacked, I'm… sorry."

Myrtle burst into angry tears. "Why would he… go and… get — himself — hurt…? Leave — me — all — alo-o-ooone…"

Neville shared an alarmed look with Ron, who gestured towards the door.

"Thanks for your help, Myrtle," said Neville. "We'll… just be going, now."

"Fine!" Myrtle snapped through her sobbing. "Everybody does! Who'd want to spend time with miserable, moaning, moping _Myrtle_?!"

The two boys hurried out and up towards the common room.

"Sheesh," said Ron. "If someone put crazy in a bottle she'd still be worse."

"I don't doubt it," said Neville, shaking his head. "But we've practically got the whole picture now."

"It's a snake," said Ron. "Shocker."

"All spiders fear it more than anything else."

"It can Petrify its victims."

"And it kills you if it looks you in the eye…" Neville muttered. "I've heard of a snake that kills you if it looks you in the eye."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Me too."

"Everybody has," said Neville. "It's in children's tales and legends."

"So why can't I remember its name?" Ron frowned.

"That doesn't matter anymore," said Neville. "Dumbledore must know what it is, and he hasn't said anything. That means he either wants to get rid of it quietly without parents finding out, or he's… waiting for something."

"Like what?" said Ron.

"Cursed if I know," Neville sighed. "But in the meantime, we can't afford to look around."

"How is that gonna work?" Ron said desperately. "We can't just stop using our eyes!"

"Maybe…" said Neville. "Oh!"

"What?" said Ron, fumbling for his wand.

"I've figured it out!" Neville gasped.

"You wanker!" Ron fumed. "I nearly had a bloody heart attack here!"

"Right, sorry," said Neville. "I just realised. Colin didn't look at the snake directly. There was a camera in the way."

"Right…" said Ron.

"Justin didn't look at it directly either…" Neville speculated. "Because… Nick! Nick must've been in the way, and he couldn't die again!"

"And Mrs Norris?" Ron asked eagerly.

"The water! There was water all over the floor!" Neville crowed.

"She only saw a reflection," Ron breathed.

"We must need more than just glasses," said Neville. "I mean Myrtle wore glasses, so…"

"A mirror?" Ron suggested. "Oh this is going to be just brilliant, walking around the castle looking through a mirror like…"

"Like Lockhart?" said Neville slyly.

Ron chuckled slightly. "Yeah, like that prat. But seriously, Neville, you want to just wander around the castle with a mirror until they catch the damn thing?"

"What do you suggest?" Neville returned. "We _keep_ going to Duelling Club, and…"

"Until we can take it on ourselves?" said Ron incredulously. "This isn't like last year, Nev. We haven't got the girls, or Harry. And this is some legendary snake, not one man with an extra face on."

The unspoken 'even if that face was the Dark Lord Voldemort's' hung heavily over their heads.

"So what do you want to do?" said Neville. "Put a post in the Daily Prophet?"

"It wouldn't be a bad start," said Ron.

"It would never make the paper," Neville said dismissively. "No editor is going to take _us_ seriously."

"Well, what about Dumbledore?" said Ron. "Or Professor McGonagall."

Neville gave Ron a dirty look. "The same Professor McGonagall who essentially told us to clear off and mind our own business last year? As if Dumbledore's going to be any better. Like I said, he knows enough to figure this out already."

"But he might not have figured it out," Ron insisted.

"You want to go talk to him?" said Neville. "Be my guest. But I got my shin blown out of my leg because the professors _don't listen to students_. I'm not repeating that mistake."

"Even if you don't expect anything it's better than nothing," Ron argued. "If this book has a hold on the girls, it could get us too. But do you think it could get Dumbledore?"

"That isn't what worries me," said Neville. "I'm worried about whether it would need to."

It being lunchtime, the boys agreed to ask Professor Dumbledore for an audience when they saw him at the Great Hall. Returning to their common room to dump their winter robes, as they had wandered towards Gryffindor Tower over the course of their conversation, they literally ran into the Weasley twins as they came out of the portrait hole.

"Watch it, midgets!" they said in unison.

"You've got like four inches on me," Ron griped.

"Which is why you'll never be as popular with the ladies," Fred grinned.

"Dick," Ron scowled.

"Exactly," laughed George.

"Give us a minute, would you?" said Neville.

"Why of course, my liege," said George.

"Shall I prepare the carriage?" said Fred, bowing elaborately with much twirling of his hands.

"Certainly," said Neville. "And be sure the horses are well watered."

The boys dumped their winter robes on the nearest sofa and headed down to the Great Hall with Fred and George, whose antics succeeded in raising their moods from dismal to merely grim. The icy steel grip of the hand on Neville's heart refused to relent. He would not know peace until the threat was passed.

The group of four took seats across from Hermione and Ginny, who appeared not to be engaged in any real conversation. While the twins were able to draw a few quips from Hermione, the silence became a trend, and the twins soon ditched them for their older brother. Lunch passed agonisingly slowly, and the only light at the end of Neville's tunnel was that Professor Dumbledore was eating at the Head Table. They would be able to fulfil Ron's foolish wish and be done with it.

Finally, Ginny put down her cutlery and left, having said barely a word all lunchtime. Hermione finished soon after, telling them she was heading to the library, and finally Ron and Neville were free to do as they pleased without the attacker's eyes upon them. Or so they hoped, at the very least. Heading up to the end of the hall once more, they found Professor Dumbledore smiling genially back at them.

"To what might I owe the pleasure this time, gentlemen?" said the headmaster pleasantly.

"We were wondering if we could talk to you in private, sir," said Ron.

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Meet me outside my office in fifteen minutes."

"See," Ron said as they left the Great Hall. "He will listen. He's a great man, Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, maybe," said Neville. "Let's see if he actually does anything."

"Come on, Neville," said Ron. "So maybe they didn't take us seriously last year. We were first years! This is the guy who beat the living snot out of Grindelwald. He's not scared of a snake!"

Neville tuned Ron out as they headed sedately up towards the headmaster's office. Regardless of Dumbledore's accomplishments, it was difficult for Neville to forgive the insult of the third floor incident. It was certainly hard to forget.

"He didn't give us the password, did he?" said Ron as they approached the gargoyle guarding Professor Dumbledore's quarters.

"Indeed he did not," came the genial voice of the headmaster.

They both turned to see him striding up the corridor after them, long blue robe billowing out behind him with swirling patterns of stars in brilliant relief. And yet the man's eyes twinkled ever brighter.

"Come now, Gerard," Professor Dumbledore said. "Do not keep us waiting."

The gargoyle sank into the alcove, and the section of spiral staircase it governed began to corkscrew upwards with it.

"After you," the old man smiled, ushering them on.

When they reached the top, Professor Dumbledore swept past and laid a hand upon his office door. A yellow light emanated from beneath his digits, and the door swung smoothly open to admit them.

"Please, take a seat," said Professor Dumbledore. He himself sat behind his desk, steepling his long fingers. "How may I be able to assist you?"

"We wanted to talk to you about the Chamber of Secrets," said Ron.

"A most regrettable set of circumstances we find ourselves in," the headmaster said forlornly.

"We know what the monster is," Ron said eagerly. "And we're fairly certain who's controlling it."

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore said, turning his attention to Neville. Those bright blue eyes seemed to pierce to his very soul.

"It's a snake that kills people by looking at them," said Ron.

"The basilisk," said Professor Dumbledore, making the both of them gasp as the name was forcibly returned to their minds. His eyes, brightly sparkling as they were, remained fixed on Neville's. "King of the serpents. A most formidable foe indeed. For a specimen to be as old as Hogwarts herself, it might have grown to longer than eighty feet."

"We think Ginny Weasley is opening the Chamber, sir," said Neville. "We believe her to be under the control of a book."

"A book?" said Professor Dumbledore neutrally.

"It was the only thing unharmed in the attack on Harry," Neville expounded, watching the man's eyes with a sick feeling in his stomach. "And yet it was found right in front of him. Ginny has utterly withdrawn from the world, spending all her time with the book, and when Hermione tried to investigate she was... different, afterwards."

"I see," said Professor Dumbledore.

"So..." said Ron, confused. He was only now feeling the unease that had been growing in Neville since he agreed to come.

"I must commend the two of you," the headmaster smiled. "In spite of the hardships you have endured, you swiftly pulled together to find justice for Harry, and to protect your friends. Not as fast as my magnum opus, but such is the power of prophecy."

Neville realised then that he could not move.

"What in..." Ron exclaimed.

"Had you done a little more, you might have identified the spirit within the book," said the headmaster. "But no matter. You have once again proven yourselves worthy companions for Harry."

"But you're going to kill the basilisk, right?" said Ron desperately.

Neville snorted, and the headmaster once more turned curious eyes on him.

"That trial is not yours to pass," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Magnum opus..." Neville spat. Angry tears burned in his eyes. "That snake has _killed_ a girl, and all that matters to you is your little project. I'll see you rot in hell, Dumbledore."

"One day, perhaps," said the professor, as though they were discussing a dinner party. "But for now I am afraid it is back to square one for the both of you."

Neville noticed only then that all the portraits in the room were mysteriously frozen. There would be no witnesses. And as the venerable professor raised his wand, Neville got the terrible feeling that this wasn't the first time.

"Say your prayers, old man."

" _Obliviate_."

* * *

The sounds of fighting echoed around Harry — explosions, yelling, and strange, repeated electronic-sounding blasts. Was it gunfire that he heard? If so, the guns were nothing like those on Earth. They almost reminded him of something he'd heard before…

He was veritably racing away now, entire solar systems blurring past as he accelerated through space. When he returned, he would have so much to talk to Hermione about. Harry gritted his teeth. And she would be there to hear it. A vision of her, laid supine upon a stone floor, flashed across his mind's eye. That voracious energy was gone from her eyes, staring blankly as they were at nothing. Harry stopped as if he had collided with a wall, gasping for breath.

 _'_ _No,'_ Harry cursed himself. If he allowed such thoughts to distract him, he would only increase the risk of something happening to her by the time he got back. And that was to say nothing of Ginny, trapped in Riddle's grasp. Harry gritted his teeth, consumed with rage.

Reaching out once more to that feeling that drew him inexplicably across the universe, Harry flew forwards as if there were a rocket attached to his back.

"Ani, find cover! Quick!"

That name again. Anakin… Where had he heard that name?

It took Harry a moment to realise that he was no longer encountering other stars. They had become so diffuse that he could barely locate them around him. Surprised, Harry looked back, once more finding Earth as though there were a magnifying glass locked between them. And he saw the Milky Way spread before him. Its great spiralling arms flung out like streamers from the hands of a child, spinning in joy through the cosmos. Harry's breath was once more stolen from his chest, though not out of pain. How many others had seen what he saw now?

Harry knew he should carry on, that he needed to chase that call to the end of existence if he must, but he could not help but take a moment to stare. At their convergence, the spirals joined a distortion from the core, like a bar stretching across the very centre of the Milky Way where the light grew ever more brilliant from the sheer population of suns. The core itself, however, was truly blinding, a mass of light that defied Harry's eyes to define, and finally shocked him from his reverie. He still had a mission.

And as he turned to head deeper into an unknown universe, he was once more aware of the sound of gunfire.

"Get to your ships!"

Who was fighting?

An electronic series of beeps followed that were most certainly found no place on Earth and yet tingled Harry's familiarity bell even more strongly than all that had come before. A deep thrumming sound… otherworldly engines starting up with a distinct whoosh… the screams of the dying.

His resolve hardened, Harry hurried onwards.

More electronic whistling and beeping! Now Harry knew he recognised it from somewhere. It was so very distinctive! If only…

The deafening sound of afterburners drowned out even Harry's thoughts, though whatever engines these ships were using certainly ran on no fuel used back home. And that was when Harry pieced together the sounds he had heard. The electronic pew-pew of the guns, the complete lack of the sound of water… These were no sea vessels! The woman had been commanding the fighters to spaceships. If that were the case, he was likely headed towards a planet with an ongoing space battle. Harry didn't know whether to be excited or terrified. This was going to be just like Star Wars.


	38. 38 - Worlds At War

The snow only fell heavier as Christmas approached, leaving the castle grounds under a pure white carpet, perfect and unblemished. Neville could not think of anything less appropriate as he stalked through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts under cover of the invisibility cloak. He was on a mission to search out Pansy Parkinson and Carina Rayne. Sadly, his objective was not to destroy them, but rather to collect some of their hairs.

Just the previous afternoon, Hermione had alerted him that the Polyjuice Potion was almost ready, and Neville had taken it upon himself to retrieve samples of their target Slytherins. Ginny, on the other hand, was collecting information on their normal behaviour patterns from her friends in the house, Tracey and Daphne. Hermione was busy looking after the potion itself in its final hours of preparation, which left one job to Ron. To their collective amazement, he had not shied away from more library duty. Perhaps that was because he was looking up ways to incapacitate some of his least favourite people for a few hours, but Neville couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by his continuing dedication.

The two Slytherin girls left the Great Hall barely a minute after he arrived, having just finished their lunch. Neville himself had taken an early, light meal. He could not afford to lose this opportunity. Focusing closely on Pansy's hair, watching the individual strands, he raised his wand.

" _Diffindo,_ " Neville muttered. Several stands floated silently to the floor. Approaching with stealth over speed, Neville collected the hairs in a vial, and focused now on Carina. She was further away now, and it was harder to visualise exactly what he wanted the charm to do, but he did not want to risk chasing them closer to the dungeons... " _Diffindo._ "

It was a more significant amount of hair this time, but still not enough that Carina would notice the loss. His mission accomplished, Neville allowed himself a sigh of relief. This would bring them one step closer to finding out who was responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. And perhaps they might find the person who had put Harry in the hospital wing while they were at it. Neville felt his hands twitch as he imagined placing them around Draco Malfoy's pale neck.

Heading up to the library, Neville felt a strange kind of apprehension, as though maybe he was making a mistake. He could not find the source of the feeling though, and it soon passed, leaving Neville confused but undeterred. There was nothing more important now than the mission.

"Hey Neville," said Ron. "I've got a few promising spells but none of them guarantee us a window. We might need to brew some potions."

"I'll ask Ginny," said Neville, shrugging. Ginny had hardly been sociable over the previous few weeks, but Hermione was up to her eyeballs with the Polyjuice preparation. Perhaps she would be amenable.

"You got the hairs?" said Ron, returning to his book.

"Of course," Neville said, shaking the vial with Carina's donation. "Here, maybe you're looking in the wrong place."

"Huh?" Ron frowned, looking down at his index of curses.

"Curses aren't generally meant for this sort of thing," Neville explained. "They're meant to injure someone, or remove them from a fight. Maybe…"

Returning the vial to his pocket, Neville headed off towards Enchantments. He quickly found a general index, but wandered the aisle looking for something more specific.

"Not protective, not… maybe…" Neville frowned, looking at the section on Healing Enchantments. They did say sleep was important for healing. Perhaps he would find something within to ensure it. An enchantment would be a lot easier to force on an unconscious victim than a potion, after all.

Taking the two books back to Ron, he started flipping through the healing index.

"Healing Enchantments?" Ron frowned.

"Wait a second," said Neville. "Saliva… Sexual transmission…"

Ron snorted in surprise.

"Sleep!" Neville grinned. "Got it! There's four spells here. This is to wake you up, no… Ah! The Quietum Mentis Charm. Induces a full night's worth of sleep, or until the counter-charm is used."

"Err," said Ron, making a face at the incantation. "You can learn that one, buddy."

 _Somnolerii Noctis Tardius Quietum Mentis Giradi Redigerilius Conscientis_

The incantation must be accompanied by a steady, rhythmic waving of the wand from left. The movement slows laterally, being fastest at the centre. Further, the movement should naturally dip centrally to encourage a deeper sleep.

"It's… quite long," Neville frowned.

"Hey," said Ron. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Ginny can just wave her hand at them."

Neville smiled slightly. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Ginny will say more than three words to us."

"Point," said Ron. "But she is talking to the _Slytherins_."

"She is…" Neville frowned. "Well, feel free to ask, but I'm going to try and get this spell memorised by dinner."

"Who are you going to practise on?" Ron grinned.

Neville shrugged. "I'll improvise."

Putting away all but the healing textbook, Neville and Ron headed back to Gryffindor tower to prepare. It would have been an arduous three hours that followed, had Neville only the memorisation and practise of the Quietum Mentis charm to keep him occupied. However, Ron insisted that they needed to practise getting into character. So every half an hour or so Ron would stop trying to cast Stunning Spells at Harry's bed, and have Neville pretend to be Gregory Goyle. It was more fun than Neville would have expected to shuffle up and down the dormitory, mocking the dim-witted lackey.

Two hours in, Ron was casting the curse at will, and had caused quite grievous insult to Harry's bedstead. Neville on the other hand had only just got the incantation down, though the wand movement was easy enough.

"Why don't you practise it on me?" said Ron, idly twirling his wand. "You can say it till you're blue in the face but you might still screw it up."

"And what do I do when you go down for a nine hour snooze?" Neville chuckled. "Nah, I need to find an animal or something to practise on."

"Hold up," said Ron, getting up suddenly and heading downstairs. His voice echoed back up through the closing door. "You keep playing with your wand, mate, it's fine."

Neville gritted his teeth, trying not to smile. "Dickhead."

Imagining Ron in front of him, he focused on wanting him tired, just shutting his eyes and settling in for a good night's rest. " _Somnolerii Noctis Tardis…_ Wait no, that's not right. _Somnolerii Noctis Tardius Quietum Mentis Giradi Redigerilius Conscientis._ "

A whisper of power hummed through his wand, manifesting as a faint glow washing over the tip, lighting it in hues of magenta.

"Wow," Neville grinned. Getting a cast right on the first try (or near enough) was a completely new experience for him. Hurrying down the stairs to share the news, he stopped short at the common room. There stood the twins, lightly kicking a snoring Ron. "Merlin's balls!"

"Too bloody right," said Fred.

"Here we were…" said George.

"Minding our own business," said Fred.

"Considering ways to bring Christmas cheer to Hogwarts," said George.

"And this lump turns up," Fred snorted, giving Ron another kick.

"Turns round to me," said George.

"And says," Fred said.

"Fre-e-ouuurrghh…" George yawned, rubbing his shoulder.

"Bam."

"Flat out."

"Smackeroonie."

"Off to la-la land."

"In sweet Mae-"

"I think I get it, guys," said Neville.

"Are you sure?" said Fred.

"We can break it down further for you," George added.

Neville stared down at his wand. "What is the range on this thing?"

"Toss it here, we'll open a window and find out," Fred grinned.

Neville almost moved to hand it over before catching himself. "I… may have cast a charm on him from our dorm."

"Niiiiice work," said George approvingly. "Takes a lot of focus to do it without looking."

"Yeah…" said Neville. "Well, now I know it works, how do I wake him up? I don't know the counter-charm."

"Oh, this should do the trick," said Fred. " _Aguamenti._ "

The little jet of cold water blasted straight into his younger brother's face, waking him with a start. "What the bleeeugh!"

"Could you say that again, Ronniekins?" said George. "Can't quite hear you."

" _Stupefy,_ " said Ron, grinning as Fred was thrown back over the armchair he'd been leaning on, out for the count. "I love this spell."

"Are you two going for honours or something?" George gaped, reviving his brother. "Have you been _studying?_ "

"Never hurts," said Ron casually.

George collapsed against his newly conscious twin, putting a hand dramatically to his forehead. "We've lost him, George. Our poor little brother. He was so _young_!"

Ron ignored them. "Neville, was that you?"

Neville nodded, still a little stunned by his accomplishment.

"Well, do you still even want to practise it?" said Ron, grinning. "If you can cast it through _walls_."

"Yeah, I'm not done playing with my wand," said Neville, eliciting a snort of laughter.

"Well, as long as you don't wake me up like _these_ bloody gnomes," Ron griped. "Let's go then."

* * *

Neville crouched silently with Ron in a doorway off the deserted Entrance Hall. Their wands were held ready in their hands, and their ears were focused keenly to hear any signal from Ginny to abort the mission. They somehow doubted that Carina and Pansy would stay as long as Crabbe and Goyle, but there was no way of knowing for sure. Just as Ron started to scratch his ear in agitation, the girls appeared through the vast double doors to their left. Neville stared at Pansy, his wand swishing side to side, murmuring the charm. Just as he pictured her closing her eyes, he released the spell, and Pansy staggered.

Both girls already having been Confunded by Ron, Carina simply carried on idly walking across the hall, until she too staggered. Apparently for good measure, Ron aimed his wand at both of them again in turn. " _Confundo. Confundo._ "

"Ooh, daisies," Carina said, as she snuggled into the floor.

Neville sniggered. "Alright, Stun them and let's get them into the cupboard."

"Is it a little bit weird that we can just do this in school?" Ron whispered.

"More than a little," Neville agreed. "But if we don't find out who's behind all this it'll be a little bit weird that everyone died in school."

"Hey, hey, I wasn't saying that," said Ron. " _Stupefy. Stupefy._ "

The red jets of light slammed into their respective targets, who were knocked back about a foot, completely wasted.

Neville rather wanted to tease Ron about the spell they were about to cast. However, he remembered the looks on his friends' faces after they came back from facing the troll they had saved Hermione from, and he thought better of it.

" _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

Half an hour later, Ron, Ginny and Neville stood in the supply closet, wands lit, looking down upon their unfortunate victims.

"Well, then," said Ron. "Time's ticking."

"I'm not particularly looking forward to this," said Neville.

"It's not my idea of a Christmas present either," said Ron. "They'd just better be wearing bloody underwear or I'm going to need therapy."

Knowing that none of them were the same size as the people they were transforming into, they had come to the alarming realisation that they would need to take the Slytherins' clothes. Neville only hoped that his pants would stand up to the strain of Goyle's greater bulk. Ginny, of course, was waiting to deal with the girls once Neville and Ron had left.

Neville grunted with effort as he tried to remove Goyle's robe. "Ugh, this is pointless. _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

"If I get an eyeful I'm taking it out on you," said Ron warningly.

"Relax," said Neville, watching Ron copy his tactics. "It's all under control…"

Minutes later, they were waltzing into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, their victims' clothes concealed in their bags. Immediately, Neville began to cough. Thick black smoke was pouring out from the stall in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron. Pulling their robes up over their faces, they knocked softly on the door.

"Hermione?" said Neville.

They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny-faced and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the gloop gloop of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Four glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

They all raised their bags, stuffed with robes, ties, socks and shoes.

"Good," said Hermione. "The potion seems to be ready…"

The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously re-reading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the book says it should… once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly

an hour before we change back into ourselves."

"Now what?" Ron whispered.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh. "We separate it into four glasses and add the hairs."

Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she removed a single blonde hair from the Carina Rayne vial and dropped it into the first glass.

The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a dull green colour.

"Well, that looks delicious," said Ron, eyeing it with loathing. "Wonder what Parkinson's will look like."

"I'm trying not to wonder what it's going to taste like," Hermione muttered, dropping Crabbe and Goyle's hairs into Ron and Neville's potions and handing them over. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the khaki colour of a bogey, while Crabbe's was a dark, murky brown.

Ron, Neville and Ginny all stood outside the cubicle, waiting to see Pansy's potion. Hermione looked up at them, and dropped the hair in.

This one bubbled in a rage, actually steaming before settling into an even darker, murkier green than Carina's.

"Wonderful," Hermione grimaced.

"Now that one is going to be foul," said Neville.

"This one's hardly going to be pumpkin juice," said Ron, holding up his 'essence of Crabbe'.

"Let's all find our own cubicles and _change_ ," said Neville, passing Pansy's clothes to Hermione.

There was a loud rustling of fabric as everybody changed into their target's clothes.

"Ready?" Ron called.

"Ready," said Neville, Hermione and Ginny.

"One. Two. Three!"

Wincing at the smell of overcooked cabbage, Neville drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage. Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes – doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be sick – then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes – next, bringing him gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax – and before his eyes, his hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, the nails broadened, the knuckles were bulging like bolts – his shoulders stretched painfully and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down toward his eyebrows – his robes filled out as his chest expanded like a barrel bursting its hoops – there was a shrieking sound from somewhere but he couldn't focus through the pain…

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Neville lay face down on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. So this was what it felt like, being Goyle. His large hand trembling, he raised it in front of his eyes to examine its unfamiliar shape. Reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, Neville met only the short growth of wiry bristles, low on his forehead.

"Are you three okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice issued from his mouth.

"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.

Neville unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deep-set eyes. Neville scratched his ear. So did Goyle. Ron's door opened. They stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable."

"We had best be going," said Neville, scratching absently at the bristly hair on Goyle's head. "Ginny, you know how to find the Slytherin common room, right?"

Carina Rayne emerged from the cubicle along from Ron's, a slight smirk on her face. It was rather unfair, Neville thought, for such an ugly person to be so pretty. "Of course."

"Hermione?" said Ron. "We haven't got a lot of time."

Pansy Parkinson scowled at herself in the mirror.

"Oh wow, you've even got the expressions right," said Neville, unable to hold back a grin.

"I've never particularly wanted to curse myself before," said Hermione. "It's a funny feeling."

 _'_ _Not as funny as desperately trying not to think about what's between your legs,'_ Neville thought.

"Ginny, let's go!" said Ron urgently.

They stormed through secret passage after secret passage until they came out on the ground floor, heading around towards the Entrance Hall.

"Don't swing your arms like that," Neville muttered to Ron.

"Eh?"

"Crabbe holds them more stiffly…"

"How's this?"

"Yeah, that's better."

As they headed down the stairs towards the dungeons, the girls settled into idle nattering about this or that in Witch Weekly. It was as though they had practised for the role, with Hermione shrieking with laughter about someone or another's choice of dress robes.

Ron and Neville shared utterly clueless looks, before bursting into laughter at the sight of each other being more in character than when they had been trying. Hearing Crabbe and Goyle laughing proper, wholesome belly laughs was up there with the strangest parts of the experience.

"What's funny?" said Pansy.

Hermione sounded rather vulnerable, and Neville realised she thought they were laughing at her. Before he could break character, Ginny stepped in.

"Who cares with those two?" Carina sneered. "Maybe they saw a mirror."

Pansy squealed with laughter, while Neville and Ron looked at each other uncertainly.

"Oh, look, it's Weasley," said Carina. "What are you doing, Weasley? Don't you know it's not safe to play with snakes?"

"What I am doing is none of your business," said Percy. "Perhaps you feel the need to prove yourself in front of your friends? With your family history it is hardly surprising, but do choose more realistic targets."

"Hmm," said Carina thoughtfully. "Perhaps I ought to aim higher."

"Do be careful," said Percy. "If you look any higher you'll see what your grandmother did to get you that wonderful manor house."

It took every bit of Neville's resolve to bite down on his grin and look menacing.

"At least she has a house, Weasley," Pansy spat, dragging Carina off.

"Go on, Crabbe, Goyle," said Percy. "Back to your common room, that's it."

"I don't know what he's been eating this year," Ron muttered. "But he better keep eating it."

Ginny snorted slightly ahead of them, but made no comment.

"Oh, hello girls," Malfoy drawled, disinterested. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing, Draco," said Pansy. "Just a... personal thing."

"Well, as long as she's not crying over _Saint Potter_ ," said Malfoy.

Neville felt the entire group tense momentarily, but Ginny snickered. "Poor Potter, beaten near dead in the hospital wing. What a tragedy."

"Yes," Malfoy laughed, looking rather pleased. "Exactly. Here, what was the new password to the… oh, no — _pure-blood_!"

Ron and Neville shared a look. It was beyond Neville how the girls were able to hold character, but Ginny was more than simply uncanny. He had half expected her to wreathe herself in flame and go full berserker mode on the ponce of Slytherin. She truly had changed.

A stone door concealed in the wall slid open, and Malfoy marched through it. Neville found himself in a long, downward sloping corridor made entirely of obsidian. Green magical lighting overhead penetrated the translucent glass to give it a haunting internal glow that made Neville shiver. Malfoy, however, seemed perfectly at ease, and they followed him down to the common room proper, where all the lighting was from green flames. It seemed the least hospitable setting for a children's common room Neville could imagine. Within, several Slytherins were silhouetted against the green hearth fire, seated in high backed armchairs.

"Draco," said Daphne Greengrass courteously, if not warmly.

Neville stared. Daphne and Tracey appeared to be just leaving. Was it part of the plan?

"What are you moping about now, Tracey?" said Carina. " _You're_ not crying over Potter, are you?"

Tracey, who had been looking rather down, turned an irritated eye on Carina. "I suppose you've gotten over your dream of one upping your grandmother and _fucking_ your way into a house with standing."

Malfoy looked rather more interested now, raising a curious eyebrow.

"You little Squib spawn!" Pansy shrieked.

Neville couldn't help but be impressed. It must have taken actual physical effort for Hermione to use foul language. Perhaps Ginny had been meeting with Hermione to practise, and that was why they had seen so little of the girls recently.

"At least I would stand a chance, you little tub of lard," Carina sneered.

"Tell me, Carina darling," said Daphne with an almost genuine tone of caring concern. "Have they started doing brassieres in flat?"

The two pairs stared each other down while a few of their housemates looked on with mild interest. Neville's brain was in full meltdown. Surely this encounter had been planned while Ginny had met with Daphne and Tracey the previous day, but the sheer vitriol between people who were supposed to be almost family... Such behaviour between Gryffindors would only be the result of the worst kind of relationship breakdown. And yet from the reactions of the other Slytherins, this was standard fare.

Malfoy seemed completely disinclined towards intervening, smirking as he bore witness to the confrontation.

"Come on, Trace," said Daphne. "The broomstick has clearly gone too long without a rider."

"Don't listen to them Carrie," said Pansy. "You're gorgeous."

"I know," Carina sighed. "Sometimes I just want to slap that filthy hybrid right in the face."

"Her grandfather, was it?" said Malfoy.

Pansy nodded, sneering. "Some foreign _Muggle_."

Malfoy turned to Ginny. "Your grandmother showed much better taste in husbands."

"Yes, well, we do have certain standards in my family," Carina smirked.

"Unlike the Potters, apparently…" said Malfoy. "An Ancient and Most Noble House indeed… Well, at least the Heir seems to know Potter's true allegiances."

Neville felt his face tauten. Were they about to hear the Heir's identity?

"I am curious though," said Pansy. "How in Merlin's name have these attacks stayed out of the Prophet?"

"I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up," said Malfoy thoughtfully, smirking slightly. "He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: " 'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?' "

Pansy and Carina giggled appreciatively.

Malfoy dropped his hands and looked at Neville and Ron. "What's the matter with you two?"

Far too late, they forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "If he had any decency he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think _he's_ Slytherin's heir!"

Carina snorted derisively.

"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."

"You and me both," said Pansy, distracting Malfoy from Ron's utterly shell-shocked expression.

"But you must have some idea who the Heir could be…" said Neville.

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing – last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time…

"I hope it's Granger," Malfoy said with relish.

Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, Neville shot him a warning look. Pansy and Carina were simpering and giggling away. Neville wondered how Ginny and Hermione could stomach behaving like the two Slytherins.

"Couldn't we do anything to help, Draco?" said Pansy.

Malfoy shifted restlessly in his chair. "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Neville tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.

"Yeah…" said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor –"

Neville stared at Ron. Luckily for them, Malfoy's attention was divided between memories and Carina, for Ron had opened his mouth to say something triumphant… and nothing had come out. Neville stamped on Ron's foot to stop him gaping like a landed fish. Evidently, Ginny was even more on top of things than he had thought.

Pansy and Carina, meanwhile, had started talking to each other more than Draco, and the boy was evidently growing upset. On two occasions Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, and Carina just giggled over him.

"Speaking of Dark Arts," said Pansy. "Did you see who the new Beater is for the Tornadoes?"

Carina hummed distractedly. "I'll never pronounce that name, but he can practise his Dark Arts on me anytime he likes."

Malfoy was beginning to turn red, but that was nothing compared to Ron. Neville wouldn't be surprised if the poor boy exploded, he was so flushed. The girls took that as their cue to start heading off. Pansy gave Neville and Ron a warning look as they passed, mouthing 'eight minutes'. They heard the girls giggling all the way up the corridor.

Malfoy stared after the girls as they left, before kicking his heel against his armchair. "Bet she'd never ignore Saint Potter…" he muttered darkly. "Dark Arts… ugh."

"Oh, I left my bag in the hall," Crabbe grunted.

"Me too," said Neville, staring at Ron and wishing that either of them could have come up with something better, seeing as neither of their victims had even been carrying bags.

Luckily for them, Malfoy was rather distracted by his own thoughts. "Sure, fine…"

They were already shuffling away out of the common room. Every itch or tingle on his skin felt to Neville like the beginning of his transformation, and he could not wait to be safely in Myrtle's bathroom.

As soon as they were clear of the dungeons, Neville and Ron broke into full sprints, desperate to get to a secret passageway in case their transformations started. There could only be a couple of minutes left…

Ron dived through an unassuming bit of wall into a passage that, today being a Thursday, led straight up to the first floor corridor on which Myrtle's bathroom was located. They were halfway through when Ron stopped suddenly, leaning heavily on the wall. He was about to ask if Ron was okay when Neville himself doubled over, feeling as though someone had taken a sword to his stomach.

"Gah!" Ron cried out, collapsing to the floor. "Bloody _hell_!"

"Why didn't she find a Pain Relief Potion or something as well?" Neville grunted through gritted teeth as he returned to his own true form.

"Oh…" Ron sighed, putting his head in his hands, which just then stopped their strange gelatinous bubbling.

With one final spasm, the potion released Neville as well, and he collapsed on his back. "Well, let's just hope the girls made it back to the bathroom in time."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Merlin's saggy ballsack, I am _never_ doing that again."

They simply lay there for a while, calming down, before Neville signalled to Ron and they both stood. It was not an easy task to walk in clothes several sizes too large, let alone such large shoes, but through a prodigious grip on the inside of their trouser pockets, and a steady shuffling gait, they managed to keep themselves in order as they headed for the bathroom.

"Not a complete waste of time, though, was it?" said Ron. "I mean we might not know who's opening the Chamber, but I'm going to write to Dad and get him to check under Lucius Malfoy's drawing room."

"For one thing, we know who it isn't," said Neville, slightly vexed in spite of himself. "And we could probably get Malfoy fired if we could find the letter where he tells Malfoy to let the Heir do his thing, but he's probably burned the damn thing."

He watched Ron's expression rise and fall with his words. It would certainly make Mr. Weasley's life easier to have Lucius Malfoy's influence compromised. Not to mention the impact it might have on the running of the school — Malfoy being a prominent member of the Board of Governors.

"Bloody Death Eater," Ron cursed.

They entered the bathroom to find Ginny and Hermione waiting for them, already changed. Hermione was scowling.

"What's wrong?" said Neville. "I mean, beyond not finding out who it is."

"If I'd had to be Pansy Bloody Parkinson for one more second I was going to start hexing people," said Hermione. "How does she live with herself?"

"If it helps," said Ron, "you were both brilliant."

"Why would it help that I'm good at pretending to be _her_?" said Hermione acidly.

Neville sighed. "I take it you rehearsed that little performance with Tracey and Daphne."

"We rehearsed _everything_ ," said Hermione. "Ugh, I just want to forget that I ever did this."

"You're not alone there," said Ron.

Hermione took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Right, well… You two get changed and we'll go get to work on our _Sleeping Beauties_."

"Hey, you look a lot better this way, trust me," said Neville, grinning.

Hermione blushed and said something unintelligible before rushing off with Ginny without so much as a glance in their direction.

Twenty minutes later, they were all standing in the supply closet, looking down at their unconscious Slytherin helpers. Each one had been redressed as well as they were able, but still snoozing under the effects of Neville's enchantment and a freshly applied layer of _Stupefy_.

"Shall we start Confunding them?" said Hermione.

"We'll have to lay it on thick for them to not realise they've been attacked," said Neville.

"I've got a _really_ good feeling about this," said Ron.

Hermione and Neville both shot him mildly irritated looks.

"It'll be fine," said Neville. "Worst comes to worst they can't prove anything, so…"

"Let's just do this and forget about it," said Hermione pointedly. " _Immobulus_!"

With the Slytherins' bodies tensed, they levitated them out into the Entrance Hall, posing them hurriedly against the wall in Crabbe and Goyle's case, and by the stairs for the girls. A round of _Confundos_ from Ron and Hermione sealed the deal, and as they all moved well out of sight, Ron pointed his wand through the banisters, and after an extra set of Confundus Charms he smirked.

" _Rennervate_!"

"Was that really necessary?" Hermione whispered.

"Better safe than sorry," said Ron, sniggering as Crabbe and Goyle started hugging each other tightly like brothers reunited after a lifetime apart. Pansy was staring at her own hand as though she had never seen it before.

"Let's get _out_ of here," Neville hissed.

* * *

Nobody was pleased to have worked so hard for so little. Christmas at Hogwarts had all the picturesque beauty that Neville had imagined, but none of the warmth or happiness. Even Ron woke up looking barely affected. For no matter what anybody had sent them for Christmas, the one gift they desired above all else was beyond their reach.

Vengeance.

With their ultimate failure to find the person behind the Petrifications, the four Gryffindors had thrown themselves headfirst into training and research. Since Malfoy was no longer a candidate, they were back to square one on finding their culprit, a mission which they could no longer do anything to accomplish.

Neville stared around at the Great Hall, with a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe decorating the ceiling, which itself was reflecting the flurries of snow falling outside. To most Purebloods, Christmas was but a quaint Muggle adaptation of the old Winter Solstice celebrations, which lasted twelve days and predated even the Celtic traditions that mirrored them, but otherwise were quite similar in nature. However, many magical families had taken it on as the centuries passed for its greater convenience of being shorter and thus less of a strain on resources. Magical society being utterly secular, and for the most part atheistic, such traditions were kept up more for sentimental value and morale than anything else. And Professor Dumbledore, among others, was quite keen on Britain making that change.

As such, Professor Dumbledore led the teachers and students in some of his favourite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. But none of this touched Neville. He powered through his Christmas lunch, barely noticing the twins charming Percy's badge to read 'pervert' and sniggering. All that mattered to Neville was getting back to the secret passages where he had been practising his footwork and spell-chaining.

He watched almost apathetically as Pansy frowned in confusion while speaking with Malfoy. Perhaps she was trying to remember where she had been for two hours on Christmas Eve after lunchtime. Perhaps Malfoy had referred to some point of their conversation yesterday that Pansy mysteriously could not remember.

Now having torn through nearly two plates' worth of turkey, stuffing, pigs in blankets and sprouts, Neville decided it was time to get to work. Though, to his chagrin, he realised that as stuffed as he was with delicious Christmas lunch, he had no chance at all of being agile.

Pulling out his copy of _Offensive Charms and their Applications_ , which he had ordered soon after seeing Ron reading it in the library, Neville began perusing Visceral Curses.

"Oh," said Hermione, looking slightly repulsed. "What wonderful reading material for Christmas lunch."

Neville had the book open to the Gastric Laceration Curse. Quite simply, it would cause the wall of the stomach to violently rupture, unleashing the powerful acids and enzymes within upon unsuspecting and vulnerable organs. Without rapidly receiving medical attention, the victim would die a painful death as they digested themselves from the inside out.

"I somehow doubt that this one is legal," said Neville. "But neither is trying to kill children. I'll do what I must."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "There's always a better way, Neville. You don't have to become what you're fighting."

"Yeah, maybe…" said Neville, turning over the page.

The Lobotomy Curse looked promising for instant incapacitation, but the incantation was so long and the casting so complex as to make it useless in a fight. The Aortic Incision Curse was, like the Gastric Laceration, a death sentence.

Neville groaned in frustration. He was looking up such curses specifically because many dangerous magical creatures were incredibly resistant to magic, and so direct attacks such as _Stupefy_ tended to simply bounce off their hides. Something more insidious would be required if he found himself face-to-face with the beast. Frowning, he turned back to the Aortic Incision. _Incisium Viscerus Arteria Maxima_. It looked like a decisive way to take down lesser magical creatures, but from the description anything worthy of being Slytherin's Monster would likely shrug off the spell like a gnat. That was ignoring the fact that he would need to know the anatomy of the beast.

Groaning, Neville let his head drop into his hand.

"Don't give up," said Hermione. "Maybe try a less direct approach."

"This _is_ my less…" said Neville.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I see nothing between your wand and your opponent."

Neville's jaw dropped. "You mean like Ron… with the troll?"

Hermione winced, remembering Hallowe'en the previous year. "Yes. Exactly like Ron and the troll."

Holding his fork between thumb and forefinger, Neville raised his wand. " _Virgani Acusio!_ "

The silver fork glinted as it morphed into a deadly sharp needle about eight inches long.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," he followed, releasing it to hang, slowly turning, in mid-air.

"Well," said Hermione, only slightly shaken. "I suppose you'll be okay if you're always carrying cutlery."

Neville pocketed his spoon. "Sorted."

He could only hope that a moral victory wouldn't carry too high of a cost.

* * *

"Doors side be ready with jinxes," said Professor Flitwick. "Staff side be ready to dodge. Remember, casters, this is for their practise not yours. I want to see no fancy aiming. On three — one, two, three!"

Neville slid smoothly to the side, watching the Knockback Jinx sail past in his peripheral vision. Those who weren't as effective went sliding backwards, fell on their bums, or in some cases actually took flight for a brief moment. Neville barely paid them any heed, waiting for the older Hufflepuff to cast again. Once more, Neville dodged just a little bit more than necessary, ready and waiting to move again. His partner cast sooner this time, and again, and again, but Neville was still up to the task of dodging almost every second. Only once the boy really started working at casting quickly did Neville falter, taking a glancing blow to the elbow and then finished with a shot to the chest.

"Good work," said Diggory. "That was about as fast as I could go."

"I'll get better," Neville said firmly.

Diggory looked a little taken aback, but then nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I think you will."

Neville looked around for a moment, trying to find fault with his own technique in others' successes and failures, but little was obvious to him.

"Let's swap," said Cedric. "Let you catch your breath."

Neville shook his head. "Next round."

It was the last club meeting under Flitwick, as Professor Lockhart was to retake leadership of the club when he returned at the start of term. As such, Professor Flitwick had them practising what he had taught them rather than learning anything new.

Neville had been spending two hours a day practising anyway, on top of learning new spells, and it was showing. Students who were failing their second dodge from being off-balance stared at Neville in raw envy. For Neville did not have time to be frustrated with failure. His best friend's life was on the line.

Hermione and Ron had taken similar attitudes, but where Neville had focused on his martial art, Hermione had spent much of her time in the library looking up useful spells, and Ron had been practising his casting. Still, neither lost their balance on the dodging drill until they were pushed. Neville had made sure of that much.

But Neville knew that simple dodging could never be enough. Not against something with the power to Petrify. Which made the next exercise all the more vital.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Diggory murmured.

"Protego!" said Neville. A transparent blue shield appeared in front of him, reflecting the spell back at the Hufflepuff, who dodged it with little effort.

" _Rictusempra!_ " said Diggory.

The red light fizzled erratically as it came, jumping and sparking. Neville muttered the Shield Charm again, this time focusing on his hand. Blue light shimmered. With a careless gesture, Neville slapped the offending jinx away.

Stepping forward as he cast, Diggory drew a tiny circle with the tip of his wand. "Incarcerous."

" _Facifirmius_ ," Neville said, smirking slightly as Diggory's spell literally washed off him in a little cascade.

The fifth year raised an eyebrow. "That's not a second year spell."

Smiling grimly, Neville gestured for him to continue.

" _Aegis Divulsio!_ " Diggory said, almost too quietly for Neville to hear. Regardless, he recognised the way the spell travelled, spiralling in a tight loop of magenta aether, making a sound like quiet, rolling thunder. Shield Breaker.

If Neville were to try and stop a Shield Breaker Curse with standard fare defensive spells, the spell's effectiveness would be nullified without dispelling the magical energy. It would be dead weight, in other words, and recasting the same spell would do nothing but tire him. But Neville had an ace in the hole.

Throwing his hands forwards, Neville truly felt the magical energy flow as a vast, golden shield shimmered into being. The curse splashed uselessly against it, with a sound like a gong so loud that half the hall stopped to stare at it.

"Impressive work, Longbottom!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I daresay little will be getting through that!"

Neville couldn't help but smile, but it was short-lived. For though it was powerful, the spell had made little sense to research for use against a monster. In fact, the only rationale he could think of for its usefulness was the perfect mirror finish...

Neville frowned, not noticing Diggory trying to get his attention. Why on earth would he care about mirrors for fighting Slytherin's monster?

* * *

 _Big yellow eyes…_

Neville shuddered. It was as though a cold wind had blown right through him.

Shaking his head, he trudged onwards towards the Hospital Wing. He couldn't afford to start breaking down now. Not with everything going to hell around him. And yet whenever he was alone, he could swear he could hear hissing.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom," said Madam Pomfrey. "Please come in."

She locked the door behind him and led him over to the same place she'd been bringing him twice a week for his whole life.

Neville smiled grimly as he looked down at the bed. Harry's physical condition had improved rapidly over the holiday, and now on the final day, the boy Neville had once known was almost back. Only a few marks remained to mar his handsome face, and his hair had largely returned. Most importantly, however, the terror and pain were gone from his eyes. His stare was blank, and as Neville watched, Harry slowly blinked.

"We're not giving up, Harry," said Neville.

As ever, there was not a twitch of recognition. But Neville was not new to communing with those who had lost all capacity to understand him. Seeing the skin had not yet returned to his hands, Neville reached out to touch Harry's cheek.

"The Duelling Club has gone really quite well without Professor Ponce," Neville smiled. "Ron's Flipendo could probably put a hole through a wall."

Looking back at Madam Pomfrey, Neville sighed. She was doing everything in her power to heal him physically, that much was clear to be seen. It was so much harder to consider that Harry might simply not want to come back to them.

"We need you here with us…"

* * *

Harry watched with a kind of serenity as entire galaxies flew past, drawn into streaks of white light by the sheer speed of his passing. The call was stronger than ever now. Behind him, Earth stood vivid and bright in the universe's eternal midnight. Ahead of him, a pinprick of white was slowly expanding. Somehow, Harry knew that this was where he was headed.

As he closed down the parsecs, Harry watched that dot swell into a great disc of brilliant radiance. The galaxy took up almost half of Harry's visual field before finally resolving into a distinct shape. At its centre, the stars were of such great density that the light seemed to swell outwards, a physical ball of blinding white. But from this dense galactic core were many great arms flung out in a vast spiral.

Harry could not pause again to appreciate its beauty. Soon the galaxy was all that he could see, and yet on looking back he could see Earth close enough to pull him into freefall. Though he was now so near as to see stars even in the apparently dark areas between the spiral arms, Harry pushed harder still. The image of Hermione's unmoving body… Ron and Neville being tortured… Ginny…

Wracked with grief for a future not yet come to pass, Harry gasped in the airless vacuum. He had stopped. The silence lent the scene a stark beauty it did not deserve. Robotic and manned spacecraft were dogfighting each other in the shadow of a large mothership. It was firing plasma rounds nearly as large as the ships themselves, and as Harry watched, one of these gargantuan bolts blasted through one of the yellow-and-silver fighters. The orange-red fire tore through the starboard engine, vaporising the wing entirely. Harry saw the pilot's face, saw her fear as she braced herself for what she knew would come next. The craft erupted in a brilliant explosion of white and yellow fire.

The planet below was picturesque — almost Earth-like in its vast tracts of green and blue. It should have been disconcerting as Harry descended, that there was no heat, no fiery re-entry. Harry had almost expected it. It was with a kind of serenity that he drifted through clouds towards what looked like a vast town of only low-rise buildings. The place was utterly dominated by a great structure built into the side of a short cliff — a palace of some sort. It was this building that Harry approached, fading through its walls like they were nought but mist. Deserted bedrooms, dining halls, corridors lit with the laser fire of the battle evidently ongoing, all whipped past him as he continued. He was close now, so very close…

Harry stopped with little ceremony in an expansive chamber of catwalks, joined vertically by great pillars of purple light. Two men were fighting on one of those walkways, both carrying swords with blades made entirely of light.

Harry stared at them. It couldn't be…

Just as they approached a series of laser gates at the end of the walkway, Harry noticed a third man leap from a lower catwalk to their level. The jump must have been at least thirty metres, but the young man cleared it in a single bound. Harry's suspicions were tickled further. But surely it just wasn't possible.

The other two men were still striking at each other furiously. One, a human with long brown hair, had a face set in quiet determination. The other was utterly alien, red and black of skin with a horned head and dressed in black robes. He fought with a barely contained rage and a double-bladed lightsaber that was swung with immaculate precision and such speed as to be barely more than a blur.

Jedi.

The younger human ignited a blue sword, charging after the other two with inhuman rapidity. But though his feet barely touched the floor, he was not fast enough to reach them before a series of laser gates shut to bar his way. The young Jedi skidded to a halt just at the threshold. The fighters, in turn, had been separated — the alien was trapped, pacing, in a final chamber, where the Jedi Knight knelt in a state of apparent meditation.

Harry moved in closer. This fight was key, somehow. Something that happened here was utterly vital.

The laser emitters rotated, opening the gates, and the older man immediately leapt at his opponent, green lightsaber outstretched in a lunge. The move was faster than thought, and was mirrored by his younger counterpart, who threw himself forward in the hopes of reaching the others. The alien responded to the lunge by knocking the blade aside with a neat spin of his red-bladed weapon, moving to spin it the opposite way and decapitate the man.

The human was too fast, dodging out of harm's way. But before he could press his attack, the younger Jedi arrived, blue sword first, ready to skewer the alien. The blue blade went entirely ignored. Sidestepping slightly, the dark-robed figure delivered a contemptuous kick, knocking all the wind from the Jedi's chest and sending him flying backwards just as the laser gates shut. It seemed the young man had all the luck in the world, for only a small part of his robe failed to make it through the laser gate. The fabric floated to the ground with an otherworldly grace, battle raging around it, its long edge glowing where the laser field had burned it away.

The other two had not waited to see that he survived. Their lightsabers were a blur of motion, bursts of white light searing Harry's eyes every time their weapons clashed. The old man was tiring. It was not difficult to see, and it clearly had his companion worried; the boy was staring anxiously through the red of the lasers, his knuckles white where they gripped his weapon. Still, the Jedi held his own, giving ground as the alien utilised his weapon's duality to attack from every conceivable angle with no time to breathe.

Just as the dark-robed fighter changed his grip, the man seized his tiny window of opportunity, striking for head then hip then heart. The alien did not struggle to keep up, and the Jedi seemed to accept his fate as a heavy strike was parried with utter disdain, the horned one turning and driving a red blade through his opponent's chest. They stood like that for a moment, the sword driven so deep as to emerge, glowing, from the man's back. And then it was withdrawn, and the old man fell, heavily, to his knees.

"NOOOOOO!"


	39. 39 - Curiosity Killed The Cat

"What are you doing?" said Ron, irritated. "You're not going to kill the monster by showing it how ugly it is."

Hermione couldn't help but glance up briefly at the sound of Ron's rancour. They were seated comfortably in her favourite part of the library, overlooking the entire lower floor while maintaining some peace and solitude.

"It's been stuck in the Chamber for a thousand years," said Neville. "Maybe it'll appreciate some fashion help."

"So why are _you_ looking into it?" said Hermione.

Neville grinned even as Ron tried to keep his jeering to a non-Pince-attracting level. "To be honest, I'm _not_ sure why I'm looking into this. It's just..."

Their smiles faded as Hermione and Ron both leaned in.

"I keep getting this creeping feeling that mirrors would be really useful," said Neville, frustrated. "I don't understand it, and I don't know where it's coming from, but I can't get the thought out of my head. I _know_ it's important."

Neither Ron nor Hermione had anything to say to that, so they slowly returned to research, though mirrors were on all of their minds. What kind of monster could be defeated with a mirror? The story of Perseus sprang to Hermione's mind, and the way in which he had bested the gorgon Medusa with his mirror-shield. Could there have been some truth to the tale? Was Slytherin's monster some creature accursed with the power to Petrify all that it gazed upon?

The problem was not the monster, however. It was Neville. For if this idea of his were more than simple dream or fancy, Neville had inside information on Slytherin's heir — Harry's attacker...

She said nothing of her thoughts as they left the library to go to dinner. There was nothing she could say, and nobody left to speak to. It was an incredibly lonely feeling, to think you might be the only person left uncompromised. How loathe she was to think herself the only person she could still trust. If only she could talk to Professor McGonagall... She could still do that, it was true. The issue was in the fact that Hermione would have absolutely nothing to tell her.

 _'Professor, Neville thinks mirrors would be a useful defence against the monster, and I'm worried about whether he has been compromised in some way by the heir.'_

Yes, that conversation would go just swimmingly.

There was only one option left to her. As ever, it began and ended with books.

The next day, Hermione went straight to the library after breakfast, making plentiful apologies for missing spell practise with the others. As was to be expected, the dangerous creatures section had plenty of gaps in the shelves. That did not mean there was not plenty of material for Hermione to peruse, however.

Finding a thick volume called _Magic in Mythology_ , Hermione found herself flicking through an endless stream of magical creatures and how they had been represented (and misrepresented) in Muggle myths. The sphinx alone had twelve pages dedicated to it. Hermione skipped over it, her indomitable curiosity quashed. She was only concerned with one beast.

 ** _Gorgons_**

 _One of the more popular creatures in Muggle mythos, the gorgon is in fact imagined by Muggles with startling accuracy. A woman above the hips and a snake below, the gorgon..._

Hermione's eyes trailed off the page.

'Snakes?' she thought, confused. 'Why are they...?'

 _... the gorgon has hair made entirely of living, writhing snakes. To look a gorgon in the eyes..._

 _'But of course snakes are important,'_ Hermione told herself sternly, feeling more unstable by the moment. _'Slytherin was famed for affinity with the reptiles, it's why there was such a fuss about Harry speaking Parseltongue!'_

Hermione sat for a moment, simply breathing, as though cut suddenly loose. Her vision of the book had blurred into incoherence as her attention drifted. Meanwhile, the library around her was relatively empty, as the vast majority of students were outside enjoying the pure white January snow. Around her, Hermione could not see one living soul. A strange chill of fear ran down her spine. Danger tingled at the back of her brain.

 _... look a gorgon in the eyes instantaneously turns the victim to stone, a power not wholly dissimilar to that of a basilisk..._

A quiet thud sounded in the library.

Staring down at the fallen tome, Hermione barely noticed the dark fingers reaching into her vision. She only saw the name of the beast the book had fallen open on.

Basilisk.

* * *

The smell of parchment slowly filled her nostrils, tickling behind her eyes until Hermione blinked them slowly open. Her face was resting with uncomfortable firmness against the desk. How long she had lain in this way she could not know, but from the familiar, irritating way her cheek stuck to the mahogany surface she was sure it had been too long. Brushing the thick brown hair from her face, Hermione's expression fell from its already low state as her eyes found the book she had dropped.

Its long, forked tongue extending between lethal, blade-like fangs, a vast snake seemed almost to be grinning up at her. Venom dripped from its mouth as it hissed, the tongue flicking almost faster than the eye could see.

"Basilisk," Hermione muttered. "King of the Serpents, whose gaze is so terrifying that it kills any who looks it in the eye. How could I forget?"

Hermione reached down and picked up the book.

A sensation, like whispers in the wind. The grace of a touch on her ear.

How could she forget?

Fear's cold, slender fingers crawled over her heart, which began to race with a sudden urgency. Looking around at the empty library, Hermione felt the fingers squeeze.

As if she were working on autopilot, Hermione began to put the books away. Every scrape of book on desk was the great beast sliding on the library carpet. The back of Hermione's nose was burning right through to her brain. But the smell that was so overpowering was ink, blood and... flowers?

Hermione froze as she came to return the compendium of mythological creatures to its home shelf.

"The basilisk..." Hermione muttered. "Neville's mirror! You fight it exactly like a gorgon. But that means we..."

 _The ink soaked into the parchment like dark blood, forming letters like molten metal poured into a cast._

 _"You are so very troublesome, Miss Granger."_

 _The flowery smell of the meadows past the Burrow, a not so gentle reminder that made Hermione's blood run cold._

 _"I modify your memory again and again and yet you keep coming back. I must say I admire your perseverance, but I cannot be envious of your luck."_

 _The black eyes of Hermione's best friend in the whole world, as she sandblasted the memories from her mind._

Gasping, Hermione slammed the book shut as the last of Tom Riddle's Memory Charm washed away. Strangely, even as the picture painted itself before her eyes, Hermione's panic faded to the back of her mind. She knew now what needed to be done, if she would only be granted the chance to do it.

 _"I think I'll make a special case of you. You shan't recall this conversation, but I rather hope that when you meet my pet, in that brief moment when your eyes connect, you remember the fear you feel now."_

Tearing the basilisk page free with a muttered 'sorry!', Hermione put the book back on its shelf and raced towards conjuration. No dirty snake was going to take her out. Tom Riddle could put his fear exactly where Hermione Granger was going to put his wretched little book.

"Household..." Hermione muttered, pulling the relevant index free. "Cosmetic... Hmm, should be here."

Dropping _An Index of Transfigurations for Home and Garden_ open upon the tabletop, Hermione began rapidly scanning the index for mirrors.

"Aha!" she said triumphantly, fingering her wand as she looked up the relevant spells.

Lumia Speculare was a potential candidate, but being translucent the mirror would only be useful as a periscope and not a Persean shield. Would that she had made Neville teach her his Shield Charm. Shaking her head, Hermione raised her wand.

Examining the image reflected back at her, she was a little surprised by just how pale and panicked she looked. She took a moment to breathe, but the colour did not look to be returning to her face. Suddenly irritated by this, Hermione dispelled the mirror with a flick of her wand.

Terror's icy fingers crept along her shoulders, making Hermione shiver as she practised the spell.

"No, no, no," Hermione hissed. "Smooth clockwise rotation, you just had it!"

"The older students always said to do a shot of firewhiskey before casting," said a woman's voice. "Especially before exams."

Hermione noted the complete lack of a flinch when she whirled and aimed her wand at the blonde Ravenclaw.

"Have you been taking their advice, Prefect Clearwater?" said Hermione.

Clearwater's nose wrinkled. "I don't think even Professor Snape ever addressed me so formally. Penelope. You're Hermione Granger, of course."

Hermione couldn't hold back a nervous titter. "Of course. As if my exam results are going to matter when the basilisk comes."

"I was referring to your assault on whatever Professor Dumbledore was hiding downstairs. Last year?" said Penelope. "But what's this about a basilisk?"

"Slytherin's monster is a basilisk," said Hermione. "So if you know a spell for a one-way mirror now is the time."

"I do, but it wouldn't help," said Penelope. "A basilisk doesn't have to see you to kill you. It's you looking it in the eye that does you in."

"But we'd only be Petrified," Hermione insisted.

"Which is only an advantage if..." Penelope trailed off, suddenly looking worried. "You aren't trying to hunt the beast. How do you know it's a basilisk?"

"I've met the person controlling it," Hermione admitted. "It's coming for me."

"You what?!" Penelope shrieked. "Why didn't you-?"

"Shh, don't draw the thing here," said Hermione. "Please! He erased my memory. Look, are we the only ones here?"

"Yeah," said Penelope. "Madam Pince puts me on duty while she goes for lunch."

"We are not safe," said Hermione.

"What was your first clue?" said Penelope. "Let's barricade the entrances and hide. It has a good sense of smell but I can scrub the air."

"It doesn't need to smell us," said Hermione anxiously. "Do you honestly think Muggleborns have a different sweat composition? The person controlling it guides it somehow. Telepathy or possession."

"Well, I'm rapidly running out of ideas," said the prefect, vexed.

"I told you, mirrors," said Hermione.

"I don't want to be Petrified!" said Penelope. "I don't want to be locked into my body until the bloody mandrakes finish puberty! We are getting out of here!"

In that moment, as much as she empathised with Penelope's anguish, Hermione couldn't help but feel some compassion for Neville. How he was coping she could not imagine.

"You think I'm not scared?" said Hermione. "I can barely cast right now, and I got 110% in Transfiguration. But we don't stand a chance of outrunning a thousand-year-old basilisk controlled by the Heir of Slytherin. All we can do is trick it into not killing us."

"So we conjure a giant shield and walk with it in front of us," said the Ravenclaw. "We'd see it without eye contact, and then we can Petrify ourselves as much as you like."

"Alright," said Hermione. "You wouldn't happen to have a mirror? I don't want to leave this to chance."

Penelope withdrew a small makeup mirror from her bag. "Let's go to Professor Flitwick, he's the closest."

"Right you are," Hermione breathed, feeling suddenly a little light headed. _'No, not now. Get it together.'_

Crushing the basilisk page tighter in her hand, Hermione screwed up her courage and strode forward with the prefect. Penelope raised her wand as they descended the stairs, conjuring less a shield, more a fracturing mass of mist to float in front of them.

"Damn!" Penelope cursed. She tried again, and a gust of wind issued from her wand. The prefect's hand was visibly beginning to shake. "I knew I should have learned bloody Calming Charms instead of Enraging Elixirs."

"I don't think I've ever longed for a broomstick before, but flying out through the window sounds excellent right now," said Hermione.

Penelope stared at her. " _Accio broomstick!_ "

Hermione neglected to mention how erratic the blonde's wand movements were, but her heart sank. She could feel the snake coming, as though it were sliding through her very chest, scraping it's gargantuan body on the bone of her ribs.

"Merlin's shit, why are we the only ones here?!" Penelope near-shrieked.

Hermione put a calming hand on the girl's shoulder. She was only a head shorter than the prefect, she noted with a strange sense of pride before her mind rapidly refocused.

"We've still got a shot at this," said Hermione. "Never give up while you've still got a chance."

It sounded like what Harry might have said were he there. Or rather he would have acted in the spirit of such a sentiment. In his absence, she would have to make do.

And so, trembling, they crept towards the library entrance.

Madam Pince's deserted desk only added to the feeling that they were in a bad horror film. Hermione wanted nothing more than to fling open a window and scream for help, but the thought that it might encourage the basilisk to attack sooner and with greater violence stymied that urge. Being Petrified was generally a bad thing, but it did make you extraordinarily resilient. The power of the basilisk was akin to the legendary gorgons, and stones are exceedingly difficult things to kill. The addendum of 'unless you are a basilisk' was not something Hermione was in the mood to consider.

Penelope raised her mirror in a shaking hand. Hermione's breath hitched as they clasped each other's hands tightly enough to feel the joints creak.

Was it hissing she heard?

Hermione clenched her jaw tight, staring unblinking into the mirror as it turned.

Her wand felt insecure in the death grip Hermione ached to maintain. She was suddenly very sorry she hadn't joined Neville in looking for a spell to turn the serpent's organs into pâte.

There was definitely something heavy moving in the corridor outside. Could they not run in the other direction? They had to!

With her fears roaring like wildfire in her ears, Hermione steeled her nerves and remained steadfast. And just then Penelope's hand jerked.

There was not time to scream. Hermione realised what had happened only as she stared into those huge yellow eyes, so full of murder and malice. She tried to look away but her eyes were no longer hers. Even as she squeezed the parchment deeper into her fist the fingers froze in place and she was left to drift, drifting through the worlds of dreams.

* * *

When he had heard there had been another attack, Neville did not stop to think. He did not try to find his friends. Whipping the cloak over himself he ran straight to the hospital wing, dodging the prefects trying to shepherd everyone to their dormitories.

He knew.

Somehow, from the moment Neville heard the alert go out through the school, he knew who it was that had been attacked.

Perhaps he did not want to accept it. Maybe Neville believed that if he could get there quickly enough he could save Hermione from her fate. But when Madam Pomfrey opened the infirmary door, her face as solemn as a mourner at the graveside, Neville's heart began tearing itself to pieces. His two best friends in all the world, the best and brightest of their generation, both now taken from him. Hermione's terrified eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.

Sitting heavily on the visitor's chair, Neville put his head in his hands. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just waiting for my turn."

Seconds passed like years as he sat there with only his thoughts for company. Neville Longbottom, the last of his name, sitting in the ashes of the best days of his life. He was not ready to say goodbye. This revelation had barely been reached when he noticed something strange.

Hermione wasn't clenching her hand into a fist. She had her fingers closed tightly around something, characteristically patterning them in a way that was too subtle to notice at first glance. Casting a muttered Lumos Charm, Neville stared at Hermione's hand. Her fingers were closed tightly upon a crunched up sheet of parchment. Returning his wand to its holster, Neville tried to gently pry Hermione's fingers open, but they were about as malleable as cold steel bars.

Still, her fingers were not so tightly clenched that the parchment was inaccessible. After a few seconds, he was able to work his finger in to just barely reach the rough writing material. Neville worked gently but insistently at the wad of paper, but finally impatience got the better of him. Firing his wand into his hand, he took Hermione's hand gingerly into his own before drawing a marked swish and flick.

The parchment twitched, rustled, and finally seemed to pour out of Hermione's clenched fist like so much milk from the jug.

Carefully flattening the page, apparently torn from a book post-haste, Neville stared at the opening words.

"The basilisk is..."

His wand dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Images flew past his eyes as though he were trapped in a tornado. Pain flooded his head like fire. But the images were strange. It wasn't that what he was being shown was alien or unintelligible — in some ways it was too familiar, like something long lost. Only when they began to move did he realise exactly what they were. He was in a tornado of memory.

Books. Harry. Myrtle's bathroom. Books. Ginny. Malfoy. Pansy.

"Ugh!" said Neville, slamming his palm into his forehead as though he could beat the pain into submission. But even as he grunted and gritted his teeth it began to fade. And behind that pain was a terrible clarity.

With one last touch to Hermione's hand, Neville turned to find Harry in near-pristine condition, the fresh skin on his hands standing as final testament to the trauma his body had suffered. Structurally sound as Harry was, however, the boy did not so much as blink.

"Harry, how do I fight _Ginny_?" Neville said in utter despair.

* * *

Percy was right. Ginny _had_ been getting progressively paler. A weariness she had not known weighed upon every fibre of her being. And as Ginny stared into the mirror, she could swear she saw something behind her. Someone.

Ginny was cracking.

It had been difficult when she lost Harry, but Tom had been there to help her through it. Still, Tom or no Tom, she did not think she could handle losing Hermione too. The image of her best friend's face frozen in horror came to her, unbidden. It was skewing in a most peculiar manner as she watched. A shiver ran up Ginny's spine even as a bead of sweat broke out upon her stone cold forehead.

Hermione... The news had only just reached Gryffindor Tower. And now Ginny was standing here, looking at the bed that would be as cold as the girl who should be sitting there with Deriving Divination: The Arithmantic Techniques. Instead, Hermione was lying frozen stiff in the Hospital Wing. What would happen to their dormitory ribbing and late night chats? Where would Ginny turn to exchange tales and myths of mages and Muggles? Who would she talk to about Harry?

Suddenly quite cold, Ginny pulled her robes more tightly around herself. That, however, was of little use. The chill of cold stone under her belly penetrated and permeated every inch of her until she was shivering and her organs all wanted to seize up and cease to be. The seconds felt like hours as she stared at herself through wide eyes. Once the sensation became truly painful, Ginny screwed her eyes shut, balling up her fists and trying to block everything out. To her surprise, it seemed to be working. Ginny was far more surprised when she opened her eyes again.

The first thing that Ginny noticed was the cinching feeling around her chest. She felt no curiosity about it at all until she realised that it was moving very slowly down her body. Instinctively, she knew she was passing through something. But what was it?

Ginny was never very good at defying her curiosity. It was her best and worst trait, according to her mother. To her brothers, of course, her temper was a far more severe problem. But as she realised that she could not look down to see what exactly was pressing so uncomfortably on her body, Ginny found that her temper was not omnipresent. She had no control over herself at all.

In her mind's eye, Ginny saw the hiding place of the Philosopher's Stone, the last place she had experienced such immobilisation. But when she tried to shout, Ginny found herself making an entirely different kind of noise.

 _'No,'_ Ginny thought, quaking. _'Don't let it be...'_

Whoever she thought she was praying to evidently did not deem her worthy of their time, for Ginny continued to hiss.

The hissing cut out just as the cinching feeling reached Ginny's waist, some ten to fifteen metres behind her. That was the exact moment that Ginny realised which corridor she was in.

 _'NOOO!'_ Ginny screamed. _'Not you,_ please _! Anything but...'_

A small mirror was emerging from the library entrance. Ginny wanted to shout a warning, call for help, drive the massive snake into the wall. She would have given her arm not to see what came next.

The mirror turned.

Ginny awoke on the floor, soaked in sweat and tears. The chill had not yet quite left her; presently it was joined by a thick, heavy fog in her mind and the most peculiar feeling that she was being followed. Her skin crawled. Through the fog of disorientation, Ginny knew only that she needed to get away from this room. This room, this accursed dormitory, was danger.

The fog began to lift as Ginny half-collapsed from the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor common room. Everyone nearby moved to help her or offer sympathy, but Ginny waved them off distantly. Her mind was starting to process what it had learned, and what she saw made her want to find a bathroom.

 _'But it was a memory,'_ Ginny thought. _'I was seeing through my own eyes, not watching someone else. That snake... that basilisk — it was me.'_

Ginny made it not five steps from the Fat Lady before collapsing in a heap against the wall. No matter where she looked, she saw Hermione's face as the curse took her. Had Ginny done it? Why would she be having visions of the past? By the same token, why would she only be remembering now?

An image flashed through her mind, of waking up covered in feathers and blood. Of waking up on the floor in Myrtle's bathroom. Of waking up with her face on her diary...

Ginny had been having memory blackouts. And somebody had been further tampering with her memory to make her pay them no need. Somebody didn't want her knowing what she had been doing. It could have been a few things, but Ginny was ready to swear by it. She was being possessed.

The cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and Ginny wanted nothing more than to bolt back to her dormitory and talk things over with Tom. Something was stopping her. Perhaps it was the desperate sense of danger she had felt in that room before. Perhaps it was that every memory that came back to her had her holding that little black book in her hand. Or maybe it was the mirror. For the person standing behind her had had a face. It was the face of an older teenage boy.

Ginny was not sure exactly when she started running. She knew only that she was putting as much distance between herself and the Gryffindor dormitories as possible. Before long she found herself halfway down the marble staircase and sweating uncomfortably, her legs feeling the burn of exhaustion.

"Ginny!"

It was Percy. _'Thank goodness for small mercies.'_

"Ginny, are you quite alright?" said Percy. "You look awfully pale."

"Percy, I…" Ginny began, panting from her exertions. A choice. To tell him, a much older and more capable wizard with solid connections, at the risk of his telling Professor Dumbledore and getting her expelled from Hogwarts… "I'm late for lunch."

Percy looked at her as though she had grown a second head. "What?"

"I'm starving, I didn't have breakfast, or dinner last night either," said Ginny.

"Why on earth?" Percy stammered.

"I'd love to stop and chat, really," said Ginny. "But if my nose is still screwed on the right way there's food over there and I am having some."

And with that, she left her brother gaping in her wake.

Ginny arrived in the Great Hall to find it verily abuzz with activity. A few people seemed amused, many were excited, but an equal number seemed rather dejected. Amongst those people was Ginny's youngest brother.

"Hi, Ron," said Ginny nervously.

Ron stared at her. Ginny thought he might yell, or walk away, or turn back to his food at the very least. However, Ron simply kept staring at her, as though he had seen a ghost. It was beginning to make Ginny uncomfortable, and she started to fidget, but as eye contact was broken, so too was Ronald's trance.

"You… spoke to me?" he said.

Nothing Ginny could have imagined was as painful as that single sentence.

"I…"

"Ginny, are you talking to me?" said Ron, his food completely forgotten.

"Yes," she said, sitting demurely opposite him. His neighbours, few as they were, recognised the need for privacy and shifted away.

"I didn't think I'd miss you," said Ron. "Annoying little sister and whatever. Ginny, you haven't said a word to me in months. What happened?"

It was her turn to stare now. But as she thought back, Ginny could not recall speaking to Ron since Autumn. In fact she had been pointedly ignoring all of her friends, even Hermione when she could get away with it. Ginny could only gape at Ron as she realised this. Ron, unfortunately, didn't seem to take this well.

"Fine, whatever," said Ron. "Just… do whatever it is you're doing."

"No, Ron, you don't understand," Ginny said desperately.

"Clearly," said Ron, picking at his steak.

"That's what I came to talk to you about," said Ginny.

"Hagrid's been taken to Azkaban," said Ron.

Ginny stared at him, the world around her coming into focus.

"He's too stupid to hide something like this."

"It's a stupid _idea_. How long would it be before the school was shut down and he was caught?"

"He's so nice though."

"... just in front of everybody like that."

"Shit..." Ginny muttered.

"That's all you've got to say?" said Ron.

"Ron, I'm in trouble," said Ginny quietly.

"So's Hagrid," Ron muttered.

"Ron, I'm sorry!" said Ginny, tears coming to her eyes as the extent of the damage wrought on her friends began to sink in. Why hadn't she known? Why couldn't she think? "You have to listen to me, please!"

Her brother looked at her blankly. "I am. What is it?"

"There you are, Ron!" said Neville loudly.

The boy was doing his level best to hurry over while looking utterly relaxed. Ginny's gaze, fixated as it was upon Neville, entirely missed the blonde girl who was so pointedly watching her.

"What happened to that chess game you promised me then?" Neville said, slapping Ron on the back.

Curiously, as he did so he leaned in, whispering frenetically in the red haired boy's ear. Ginny recognised the look in his eyes. It was the same one she had seen in every one of the basilisk's victims — terror.

The fight drained from Ginny, and she barely noticed Ron and Neville leave as she half-slumped at the table. Already she could feel Tom's fingers on the back of her neck. It would be so easy to simply give him what he wanted. Unwittingly or not she had been doing it thus far. Ginny gritted her teeth. She could see Hermione's face in front of her, freezing slowly into that mask of fright. Almost before she could take a breath, Ginny was on her feet and running.

Neville's panic meant one of two things. Either Tom had a finger on him too... or somehow, Neville knew. It was a small hope, but Ginny held onto it for dear life.

The blonde girl nodded sadly, and returned to her lunch.

"Ginny!" said Percy. "Ginny, you didn't eat!"

Ginny did not pause. If Neville had been compromised then so too was Ron. She needed to find a plan B, and fast. Perhaps... If she was quick, maybe she could get to the diary before Neville and Ron. There was no way that Neville, mediocre as he was on a broomstick, had infiltrated the girls' dormitories and removed the diary between Ginny leaving the common room and Neville's arrival at the Great Hall. No, if Neville was under Tom's influence and trying to reach the diary, he would be racing there now. Being a girl, that put the odds in Ginny's favour.

Unfortunately, it meant that Ginny would need to find some way of disposing of the diary. She imagined numerous scenarios as she barrelled up through a secret passageway. Throwing the offending item out through the window was a foolish enterprise, and such a powerful Dark artefact was unlikely to be left so unprotected as to be combustible. Ginny could always gamble on her raw magical might being sufficient to destroy the thing, but considering what had happened to Harry she wasn't entirely sure that any direct attack could end well. She needed to hide it. The book would have to go somewhere that nobody would ever look for it.

Ginny's first thought was the Black Lake, but the book would most likely float until some poor soul picked it up. The Forbidden Forest was a nice thought, but Ginny didn't need to worry about some random creature trying to eat her while she fended off Tom's will.

Gasping out the password, the answer came to her. Ginny could simply flush it down the toilet. And there was one toilet at Hogwarts that nobody ever used.

Ginny's body rebelled against her as she tried to keep running up to her dormitory, and she collapsed against the wall for a moment, panting. But she could not allow herself rest. She needed to be rid of Riddle while her mind was still her own.

The same sense of danger, of fear, suffused Ginny's being as she opened her door — the same door that once had promised excitement, freedom and wonder. Down her neck ran a single, chilling tingle as she picked up the diary. It was all that Ginny could do to try to think peaceful thoughts, to act naturally, but somehow she could hear mocking laughter in her head.

It was an agonising walk from Gryffindor Tower down to the second floor. Ginny kept the diary tightly clutched to her chest, hoping against hope that nobody would stop her and ask any questions. She did not consider that the majority of people in the school had assumed that Hagrid was in some way the culprit. The Chamber of Secrets was closed. Ginny trembled, and hurried on. She did not want to think about Hagrid being held at the merciless wizard prison, left to the tender care of its guards. She did not want to think about how it was her fault.

Ginny reached the second floor in record time, though it had felt like hours. However, as soon as she reached Myrtle's bathroom, she stopped. The foot-high words on the wall remained, even after the months that had passed. Filch had never been able to clean them off.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Ginny turned to the bathroom, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as if vying to escape its prison. She could sympathise. Walking as casually as she could to a bathroom stall, Ginny made as if to raise the seat cover before slinging the diary under it. Ginny sighed in relief as she flushed the toilet.

The diary, however, was still in her hand.

Her eyes going wide, Ginny shook her hand violently, trying anything and everything to get it away from her. But she could not make her hand release it.

The mocking laughter grew louder now. It was no figment of her imagination.

 ** _'Ginny, Ginny, Ginny…'_** Riddle laughed. **_'I thought it would be amusing to witness a little poetry.'_**

Her body, now answering to entirely different orders from her own, began to walk itself out of the bathroom and back into the corridor. A notice-me-not charm sealed her fate.

" _Pingieris_ ," Ginny cast, her wand following an alien motion.

 ** _'Have you yet realised that you walked willingly to your doom?'_** said Riddle. **_'Has that unconquerable sense of despair set in?'_**

Ginny said nothing, continuing to trace the words he was writing while red paint splashed back over her and the floor beneath.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER


	40. 40 - I'll Just Be A Memory

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Replies at the end.

Harry stared. Time seemed frozen — a single moment crystalline in eternity. The Jedi Knight stared into the distance, a clear, clean hole through his heart. The rush of blood floated unmoving, as still and serene as everything else around.

Harry watched the old man's eyes as he fell. He was not looking at the other Jedi who was so distraught at the loss of him. He was staring off into the distance, his expression unreadable but for a degree of surprise. However, this was not why Harry was watching him. Harry was watching the man because at the moment of his death, Harry had felt a connection like nothing he had ever known. It was as though someone had taken a firm hold of his very mind, and pulled. His connection to Ginny seemed never to have been so profound.

Reaching out to him, Harry felt the shock in the man's mind mind. But beneath that surprise was only the utmost serenity. The Jedi was ready and waiting for death. And in that moment, as that connection was made, Harry's mind exploded. As though he had spontaneously developed a sixth sense, Harry could feel the three men below — their emotions, their character and their stature. It was remarkably similar to the way he was able to sense Ginny. If that were the extent of it, Harry would have been fine. But Harry could feel dozens of guardsmen desperately fighting off a robotic army. And beyond the palace, the planet positively hummed with life — billions of beings moving and feeling and living and dying. It was not even this that hit Harry for six.

As his consciousness rapidly expanded, Harry felt one thing that dominated everything else. Panic.

One girl's terror shattered his perfect meditation, and Harry found himself racing away from the Jedi, back across the cosmos. For Harry did not need to see her face to know who this was. And he could not bear the thought of what might happen if he was too late. The journey did not take long. In fact, it felt almost as though he simply blinked straight back to low Earth orbit. Harry half-wished that the journey could have been slow. For as he looked down upon Hogwarts Castle, he saw Hermione Granger standing, almost shaking with fear, at the library exit.

"No!" Harry cried, racing to his body. Much as he pushed and strained, though, it would not accept him.

In the meantime, the reason for her anxiety was emerging from beneath the floor. An array of runic symbols glowed around the crest of its head and down the length of its body as the stone floor seemed to liquefy to allow the vast serpent through. A forked tongue that could wrap around a motorbike flicked out to taste the air. Hermione and her Ravenclaw companion were quaking now as the other girl slowly raised a mirror to look around the corner. Could they hear it?

The mirror came hesitatingly around the corner, and the snake levelled its head at the intruder.

Time slowed.

The mirror turned to show the girls what lay ahead, and their faces were painted in shock and despair. An unnatural stillness spread in a soft wave from their eyes, freezing their very skin in place.

"NO!" Harry screamed. "Not her! I promised!"

The snake opened its mouth, the sword-length fangs visibly dripping with venom. A cold, sick feeling grew in Harry's stomach, but he could not look away. Transfixed, he stared in horror as the serpent reared.

And there it stayed. Harry's eyes itched as he watched, his heart skipping beats as it worked entirely too fast. The snake, however, made no move to strike. Instead, it closed its mouth and hurried back through the wall into the plumbing network. Its victims, utterly rigid, fell to the floor like dominoes.

Clenching his fists in rage, Harry pushed and shoved and punched his way towards his body. It was as if an invisible rubber wall had been erected in the way. Nothing he did brought him any closer.

Once the fury was spent, all that remained to him was despair. Turning back to look at the castle, Harry watched the beast return to Ginny and that accursed diary. He remembered then what Riddle had said about the bond. It was not a one-way street, Harry's connection to Ginny. Riddle might have used it to manipulate Harry through her, but turnabout was fair play. Closing his eyes, Harry revisited that sacred place in his mind that had so thoroughly been defiled.

'I tire of your insolence,' Riddle spat.

Ginny made no response, and Harry's heart broke as he felt her soul quaking and cowering under the monster's thumb.

'Perhaps...' the wraith muttered. 'Yes, the time has come. Dumbledore or no Dumbledore, I will feel the ground beneath my feet once more.'

Harry felt the fight leaving him. If he could not save Ginny... He imagined Hogwarts in flames, and the screams of burning children as a shadow emerged through the fire. The shadow rippled and bent, until the fire parted and Voldemort stepped through, followed closely by his enormous basilisk.

But even as despair was filling his heart, that strange whisper returned to his head, calm and reassuring. It was the feeling that had led him to the Jedi. At first, Harry wanted to ignore it. To be sure it had shown him the wonder and beauty of the universe, but all it had led to was death and pain. And yet, he could not help but cling to what small comfort it lent him, this incomprehensible voice that whispered in tones of hope and the cadence of compassion. The more he listened, the more it told him.

He remembered sitting with Ginny in her tree, talking about her family. The sunlight filtering through the leaves formed shifting patterns on her face, flushed with emotion. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how small and soft her hand was in his.

Harry's thoughts strayed to Hogwarts, and sitting idly on the eaves over a courtyard walkway with his friends. It all seemed so very far away, yet it could not fail to lift his spirits. If there was any chance that he could save them, he had to fight for it. He needed to fight to his last breath. Perhaps there was something more to the fight with the Jedi — something he had missed. Surely the voice could not have led him there for no reason. Even as he turned to go back to the Jedi, he heard Riddle in the back of his mind.

'Run along now you pretty little fool. Your soul is mine.'

* * *

"Will students please return to your common rooms immediately," said Professor McGonagall's voice, apparently magically carrying through the corridors. "This is not a drill. Remain calm and follow your prefects."

Ron turned to look at Neville. "Another attack?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Neville.

"Me too," Ron frowned. "What do you reckon?"

"I think it's worth poking around," said Neville. "Worst comes to worst, I'll mirror up and we might get away."

"I should've learned that bloody spell," Ron cursed.

"You'll have your chance," said Neville firmly.

Ron wanted to believe him, he really did. However, there had been a quality to his Head of House's voice that made him feel that they were at the end of the line.

"Well, where do we start?" said Ron.

"We look to where everyone is being led away from," Neville said, whipping the invisibility cloak over them.

"Wands out, you reckon?" said Ron.

Neville nodded. He was apparently preoccupied with keeping both eyes and ears open for their fanged nemesis. Ron drew his wand.

"Why are we even bothering?" said an older Hufflepuff Ron didn't recognise. "Do they think we're safe in our common rooms? We're being corralled up for the slaughter."

"Especially with Dumbledore gone," said one of his classmates.

Ron and Neville froze. The Hufflepuff evidently had intended to be quieter, for he had quite the horrified expression on his face as many of his younger housemates erupted into open panic.

"How?" said Ron. The boy sounded quite faint.

"The only power over the headmaster at Hogwarts is the Board of Governors..." Neville thought aloud. "Malfoy. That slimy Death Eater bastard."

"His Dad's on the Board," Ron said. "I'd stopped listening to what the little ponce was saying half the time."

"He even told us his father wanted to help the Heir," said Neville, despairing. "How many governors he must have bribed or threatened to oust Dumbledore..."

"We'd better make this quick then," said Ron.

"This school is a genocide waiting to happen," said Neville. "Why haven't they shut it?"

"Save the philosophy for later, Socrates, there's a bloody monster loose!" said Ron, dragging Neville.

Neville frowned, staring at Ron. "You know who Socrates is?"

Ron did not grace him with a reply, something for which Neville was rather glad. He felt as though his brain was swimming in glue. Things that should be passing curiosities stuck at the forefront of his mind, and he could barely focus on Ron's hand... Ron's hand wasn't on his robes anymore. He had only just realised that the slap was coming before his head was snapping back. Hands grabbed him by the lapels, preventing him from falling backwards.

"Snap out of it, mate," Ron hissed. "We cannot afford this right now."

Neville took a deep breath, massaging his sore neck. "Of course. But after this we're working on your bedside manner."

"Whatever you say, Socrates," said Ron, shaking his head and leading onwards to the nearest secret passage down.

"Wait, seriously?" said Neville.

The mood had fallen through the floor before they were even through the first entrance. As each boy was given time to think, so did their thoughts go to ever darker places. Neville was imagining the worst as they emerged in the first floor corridor. He was apparently not far off.

"Her skeleton will lie..." Ron muttered. "Whose skeleton?!"

"Keep your voice down, there might be professors nearby," said Neville urgently.

Ron looked ready to do him bodily harm.

"Look, we'll go to the staffroom and find out somehow, okay?" said Neville. "Can you see anything else out of place?"

They spent thirty seconds furiously searching the area, but turned up nothing.

"We could just ask Myrtle," said Ron.

"We could," said Neville, leading them downstairs. "But I'd somehow rather spy on the teachers than risk a Myrtle tantrum."

The teachers, as it turned out, were just then all hurrying into the staff room from all four corners of the school. All, that is, apart from Hagrid and the headmaster.

Waiting patiently at the door, they bided their time until Professor Vector came through with Professor Sinistra, opening the door just long enough that they could slip through unnoticed. Neville eyed the wardrobe appraisingly as Professor Sprout put away her heavy outer cloak. The door opened silently...

Neville pulled Ron closer to it, sharply gesturing his intentions. Every professor in the room had their eyes on McGonagall. Neville and Ron both held their breath, waiting. She turned. Neville signalled to Ron, who was already busy easing the door open, and they slipped in amidst the cloaks, safe from wanderers and new entrants. Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, addressed the room.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth.

Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber for ever."

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Though he himself tensed, a knot tying itself out of his internal organs, Neville felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said..."

Neville stared at the professor through the gap between the doors. Hearing it had not made it better. Next to him, Ron looked to be a shell of a man.

The staff-room door banged open again. For one wild moment, Neville was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — well, I —" spluttered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall ..."

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I ... I really never ... You may have misunderstood ..."

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome any more. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin he looked weak-chinned and weedy.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll — I'll be in my office, getting — getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

Neville was barely able to get Ron safely into the corner before Professors Sprout and Vector came for their winter cloaks. A large part of him wanted to simply curl up and die, and the part that was glad that he would probably only be in danger from a thousand year old basilisk and a psychotic, mind-controlling book just made the rest of him feel worse.

"Why Ginny?" said Ron. "Why did it have to be my sister?"

"We'll get her back, Ron," said Neville softly. "I swear it on my parents' memory."

Ron looked up at him through bright eyes. "Your...?"

"Let's go," said Neville. "We're going to need an army."

Sneaking out of the staff room, they ran straight across through a stone wall into a secret passage that wound up tightly to spit them out onto the third floor. It felt good to be doing something, Neville thought. The pounding of blood in his ears distracted him from the doubt in his mind and the terror in his heart.

"Ferrum over finery," said Ron.

"Who goes there?" said the knight curiously.

"Just bloody well open!" said Ron.

Neville raised the cloak. "There's something familiar about you."

"And of you," said the portrait. "You have that look in your eyes, young man, of one who marches to his own death."

"Neville, we're in a hurry," Ron ground out.

"This portrait spoke to Harry before we went down the trapdoor," said Neville. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"You plan to fight the beast below," said the portrait.

Neville nodded.

"You will look certain death in the eye," the man said. "And for what? Vengeance?"

"A last stand," said Neville. "Without my friends, my life would not be worth living."

"Some of them may perish in the fight," the portrait pointed out.

"Or they may die later," said Neville. "Better that we go down trying than cowering in the dark."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," the portrait muttered. "He would have approved heartily of you and your friends."

Ron looked about ready to crack, and both Neville and the portrait noticed.

"You are eager to save your sister," said the knight. "I understand. And I will aid you."

"How?" said Ron desperately.

"The bird Dumbledore has bound to him is a phoenix," said the portrait. "Do you understand the significance of this?"

Ron shook his head, while Neville patiently waited.

"To keep this short, phoenixes are immune to a basilisk's power. The venom or fangs may still kill it, but then it would simply be reborn. Which makes it one of the few creatures that can reliably fight the beast."

"You knew it was a basilisk?" said Ron. "And you didn't tell anyone?"

"What on earth makes you think the relevant people did not know?" said the man. "The phoenix is bound to Dumbledore, but a phoenix's true allegiance is with their own people and the defence of the innocent."

"Then where have they been all year?" Ron demanded.

"Ah the eternal feud of gods and men," said the knight. "Call on Fawkes. Beg his aid if you must, but he will not forsake you. Even Dumbledore could not stop him then."

The two boys remained silent as they headed up towards the Gryffindor common room. The only sounds to be heard in all of Hogwarts were the pounding of their feet on carpeted stone floors.

"What did he mean about Dumbledore not being able to stop the phoenix?" said Ron.

"I don't know," said Neville as they hurried on into the passage up to the seventh floor corridor. "But I'm getting a really bad feeling about this. It's like... deja vu."

"Synaesthesia," said Ron.

"I swear, the number of invisible comers and goers..." said the Fat Lady, sounding shaken but opening regardless.

They hurried up to the dormitory to take off the invisibility cloak. Neville was about to turn back to the door when his eye caught on Harry's pristine bed. Walking softly over, Neville laid a hand upon the bedpost. No words came. After a moment, he turned, nodding to Ron and racing down to look for Ron's brothers.

"Where have you two been?" said Fred.

"Busy," said Neville.

"Come on," said Ron.

"You're joking," George gaped.

Ron glared at his brother. "You know why they've shoved us in here."

"I could hazard a guess," said Percy, emerging from a group of sixth years. There was no light in his blue eyes. "But what do you expect to do about it, Ron?"

Ron's ears were purpling. Before the boy could erupt, Neville interrupted. "Why don't we find a nice quiet room to discuss that?"

From the despair on his face, Neville thought Percy might refuse, but after a few moments the prefect acquiesced.

Slipping out through the portrait hole, they pointedly ignored the Fat Lady's distress, ducking into a nearby corridor and going through the nearest door.

"Now what exactly-" Fred began.

"Luna?" Neville said, staring at the slight girl.

She was standing there with her eyes closed, not five paces from the door. And upon her face rested a sad smile, as of one remembering the dear departed.

"The army is here," she said.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" said Neville.

Her eyes opened slowly as she brought them to bear on him. She smirked slightly. "That should be obvious."

"And you're happy about that, are you?" Ron fumed.

Luna's eyes lingered on Neville. "Her loved ones have gathered together to fight for her liberty against overwhelming odds."

"Her loved..." said Fred.

"No," George growled. "It can't be. Why would anyone want to hurt her? Ginny's a fucking angel."

"In a world full of demons," said Neville. George said something inarticulate, kicking the stone wall and sniffling in subdued pain and fury. Fred seemed not to have quite processed what had been said. "Luna, you realise how dangerous this will be?"

"A suicide mission," she said. Her eyes had yet to leave his.

"You're going to let her come along?" said Ron. "You can't be serious!"

"I am not Harry," said Neville. "Luna is as old as we were. Older than I was. And I know how close they are."

"The monster took Ginny?" said Fred. "My sister?"

"And we are going to get her back," said Neville resolutely.

"And why are we not getting the professors to do this?" said Percy. "The trained combatants? How can we help Ginny by throwing ourselves to our deaths?"

"The professors will not help," said Neville.

"How do you know?" said Percy. "In fact, why on earth wouldn't they?"

"Because they already gave up on her," said Ron venomously.

"We spied on them," Neville admitted. "They're leaving her to Lockhart. Besides, they didn't help last year. I feel like it's a bad idea to try that again."

"Your feelings are immaterial," said Percy angrily. "I want my sister saved, not to throw half trained children at monsters in vain hope."

"If you have a single bloody shit y-"

"That. Is. E... nough."

Neville slammed down his hands in an angry gesture, but Ron and Percy were curiously staggered as if they had taken heavy blows to the midriff.

"Feelings are everything, Percy Weasley," said Luna. "You are a wizard, are you not?"

Percy seemed to struggle for a retort.

"Ron," said Neville. "You're angry, and scared. I am too, and so is everyone in this room. But we only get one shot at this. One chance to get Ginny back. If we mess up because we rushed in, none of us will get to see her again."

Neville almost hated himself when he saw the effect his words had. But the raw determination and loyalty he knew Ron had surfaced to warm his heart.

"I'll follow you," said Ron. "I can't..."

'Follow?' Neville thought, bemused.

Luna was looking at him again, her head tilted slightly, and Neville got the curious impression that she knew precisely what he was thinking.

"I still think we ought to tell Professor McGonagall at the very least," said Percy. "If you're implying that you know how to get into the beast's lair, she would lead a squad of professors straight down, I am sure of it."

"Then go," said Neville. "And when you are told that you are a silly little boy and to go back to your common room and behave yourself, look for the phoenix."

"Fawkes?" said Percy, confused.

Neville was already at the door. "I spoke to someone important before I came here. Professor Dumbledore already knows what lies in the Chamber. Think about that."

"Come on, Perce," said George quietly. "She needs us."

Neville looked askance at Luna, who walked at his left hand. "How is it that you know so much?"

"I keep my eyes open," said Luna. "That usually helps."

"You knew about Hermione," said Neville. "And you were in the exact room to wait for us. You're either spying or scrying."

"Aren't they just the same thing, really?" said Luna absently.

"Answer the question," said Neville.

"That would be telling," Luna said. Neville rather fancied that her lips quirked.

"So, what's the plan?" said Ron as they slipped through a mirror that wasn't entirely there.

Neville sighed. In his frustration with Percy he had overlooked a key point of the meeting.

"Guys, the monster in the Chamber is a basilisk," said Neville.

To their credit, the twins' resolve only seemed to harden. Percy looked quite horrified, though he made no move to go anywhere. Luna simply looked at him, utterly placid.

"That means it's greatest strength and weakness is the eyes," he elaborated. "I can cast a shield that will thoroughly protect us but I cannot say for how long. So the eyes are our highest priority."

"I have a few tricks," the twins and Percy said simultaneously.

"Good," said Neville. "So do I. Fawkes will help us. He is sworn to, but we will need to call for him."

Fred seemed ready to, but George put a calming hand on his arm.

Neville nodded. "Better to wait until we're inside. The first thing we'll do is pay Lockhart a visit. If he truly plans to hunt the beast..." The twins and Ron all snorted. Percy just looked uncomfortable. "He might have something useful. And I'm taking everything I can get."

"And when we're down there, fighting?" said Percy. "Is there a plan beyond hide behind the shield, go for the eyes and hope Fawkes comes? This is a basilisk."

"Give lots of ground and torture its wounds until it stops twitching," said Neville grimly. "What else?"

Percy gritted his teeth. "Fine. You have my wand. For Ginny."

It was not long before they found themselves outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Neville rapped loudly upon the door.

"Professor Lockhart?" said Neville.

"He's already run off," Fred spat.

"Oh screw this," said Ron. "Alohomora."

They began to hear rather a lot of activity as the classroom door opened. All the portraits of Lockhart that had been grinning down at them during the school year were gone. In fact, the classroom was utterly bare. From the office door at the far end, however...

As they came ever closer they began to make out the sounds of scraping, thumps and hurried footsteps. Neville knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh... Mr. Longbottom..." he said, opening the door a little wider but pausing at seeing the crowd of students on his stairs. "I'm rather busy at the moment. If you would be quick..."

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Ron. "We think it'll help you fight the monster."

"Er — well — it's not terribly —" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean — well — all right."

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Neville dangerously.

"Of course," said Lockhart, aggrieved. "The Chamber of Secrets."

"To bore the monster to death with your assorted works and acclaim?" said George.

"My dear Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart with a touch of anger. "This is hardly the time to debate the literary quality of my work. I believe your sister is down there, is she not?"

Not cowed by the older man, the twins nodded tersely.

"Then you are hardly in a position to be attacking your allies, are you?" said Professor Lockhart. "If you must know, this is helping me to think. Besides, if things should go less than well fighting the beast I should like to be able to leave in a hurry."

"And the children?" said Fred.

"Are being evacuated by the other staff, I'm sure," said Professor Lockhart. "They may not be fond of me but they are not incompetents."

Neville had to admit that he was surprised. Either Lockhart was good at improvising or he had actually been thinking this through. That did not change the look on his face when the other professors had left him to fight the monster alone. Perhaps he had been depending on their support.

"So what is your plan, sir?" said Neville.

"What?" said the professor. "You imagine I would endanger more of my students on this endeavour?"

"She's our sister," Percy said.

"I suppose if it is a basilisk I could use all the help I can get," Lockhart muttered.

Neville's eyebrows rose further.

"But how exactly do you think the public would react if any of you were to perish?" said Lockhart decisively. "I would lose my job at the very least. More likely I would be for Azkaban. No, no, I will not have it. If you have information you can tell me on the way."

Neville looked around at the others as Lockhart finished stuffing his possessions into trunks.

"Well, what are you doing all standing there staring?" said Lockhart. "There is a young girl who needs saving!"

And with that, Gilderoy Lockhart swept from the room.

Neville looked back at the others. Ron and the twins might have been smashed in the face with rubber mallets. Luna, on the other hand, had that same sad smile on her face. Taking a deep breath, Neville followed the professor out.

It was a struggle keeping up with Lockhart's urgent strides, but Neville did his best.

"Now tell me what this information is," said Lockhart. "I hope for all our sakes you've found the entrance. I can only narrow it down to somewhere near that haunted girls bathroom."

"It's inside," said Neville, feeling confidence bubble inside him for the first time that day. "One of the sinks. We couldn't narrow it down further, the ghost got temperamental."

"Excellent," said Lockhart. "Wonderful material."

"What?" said Neville.

"Your information," said Lockhart. "Exactly what I needed to work with. Was there anything else?"

"The monster is a basilisk," said Ron. "It's been moving around in the pipes."

"Interesting," Lockhart said, nodding. "So the primary entrance to the plumbing is in that bathroom, but it must need other exits than bathrooms. Not all the attacks were near to toilets."

"We don't really know anything else," said Neville. "Sorry, professor."

Lockhart waved him off, his famous charming smile returning. "What's a suicide mission without a little uncertainty?"

They hurried down the marble staircase, eerily deserted in the middle of the afternoon. In fact, they didn't run into a single soul on the way to Myrtle's bathroom. Neville had just caught sight of the writing on the wall when Luna slipped past him, nudging him gently but insistently out of the way.

"Your Memory Charms are strong, professor," said Luna quietly. "But they aren't sophisticated enough for you to ever get away with what you're planning."

"Obliviate," said Professor Lockhart, turning suddenly.

Nobody had time even to shout, but Luna dodged with almost extraordinary reflexes, straight into the path of a Stunning Spell.

Enraged, Neville conjured his golden shield and gestured to Ron to get Luna out of harm's way.

"What are you doing, professor?" called Percy.

"Oh, you know the old saying about skeletons and closets," said Lockhart lightly. "None of them ever dodged before, but hey ho."

"Why are you trying to erase her memory?" the prefect continued. He was still yet to draw his wand.

"You told me far too much, really," Lockhart shrugged from behind what little cover the doorway to Myrtle's bathroom offered. Between the combined curses and hexes from the twins, that cover was dwindling. "This will make for a marvelous book. It'll add a real element of tragedy to the series."

A vast curse came soaring towards Neville, but he braced himself, stepping into its path. It impacted upon his shield like a speeding train into the buffers, staggering Neville as it veritably exploded.

"The readers will simply eat it up," Lockhart gloated amidst the debris raining down upon him. Neville would not be surprised if the impact of that curse on his shield brought down the ceiling on their heads. "How I slew the beast, but was too late to save the girl. Of course the sight of her ruined, mangled little body drove you all mad with grief. The sheer sorrow of the thing will leave its mark on me, I'm sure."

"You bastard!" Percy spat.

Neville wasn't even sure where the wand had come from, but a curse zig-zagged over to Lockhart, striking on the doorframe. For a moment Neville thought Percy had missed. Then the wood began to glow. Lockhart screamed as, although he managed to shield much of the result, the superheated shrapnel exploding in every direction caught him in the back of his legs.

"Make yourself useful," said Ron to Percy. "Wake Luna up."

"Inventive, Mr. Weasley," Lockhart grimaced. "I may have to use that one."

Neville glared hatefully at what he could see of their former Professor of Defence. When he was done with Gilderoy Lockhart, the villain wouldn't be able to use a spoon.

* * *

MVDB: I've changed the summary a few times, and never been particularly happy with it. I might revisit it. As to the story itself, I'm keeping a lot of this one sacred because I wrote much of it when I was 12/13 and I'm going to honour what I had. And I'll admit it wasn't written very well but the reasoning was fairly sound, especially with some of the background given later of how powerful some of Ginny's predecessors have been. I hope you enjoy it too!

esparza3368: Lol

stars90: But a difficult gut feeling to justify :D

Vangran: Indeed

stevefocus: That was amusing to watch :)

Dragon Man 180: Well now I can't really answer any of that, can I? Good things come to those who wait, though.

sephchipmunk: I completely dropped the ball on that one, thanks!

corbinskydragon1: Thanks! I'm trying to upload every few days at the moment, but we're getting close to the bottleneck.


	41. 41 - Don't Let Me Fade Away

The longer Harry watched, the more he felt. He could feel hope in the man destined to die at the Sith Lord's blade. Not for himself, but for someone else... The boy... The galaxy. There was grief and sorrow too. He knew he was outmatched, and that his apprentice would suffer to lose him. But he swelled in Harry's mind with a brilliance of love for the boy he had poured his very soul into training. And that made him fight all the harder, to give the young man every possibility of surviving this.

With every passing moment, Harry felt the connection deepen.

This did mean something. If only he knew what it was. The voice in his head spoke in whispers of images and emotions, not of words. But it did reassure him. When the time came, this strange circumstance would come to fruition.

That was when he heard it. From across the universe, Harry felt Ginny's despair as the ritual Tom Riddle was performing with her body reached its climax. He watched helplessly as she collapsed on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, the runic array fading from the stone around her. And once more, Harry felt the rage come.

The voice in his head continued to whisper, keeping him calm and focused. But the rage suffused him, filling him with power to the very tips of his fingers.

"Take. Me. Back!" Harry growled as he pushed back towards his body.

If felt like walking through treacle. And the treacle was hardening.

"No!" Harry grunted. "No more."

Pushing through what now felt like a solid rubber wall, Harry's vision began to grow dark.

"I'm coming, Ginny."

He woke with a start. Rolling out of bed, Harry cursed freely as he hit the ground feet first, causing the most delicious pain Harry had yet felt.

The image of Ginny collapsing in the Chamber still flashed vividly in his mind. But more had come to him in that dark limbo while he waited to return. In opening Ginny's soul to himself, Riddle had only widened the door to his own mind.

A boy entering the third floor secret passage. A girl attending to her Glamour Charms on the way to class. A crying, bespectacled girl in a bathroom.

One hand clutched at Harry's face while the other scrabbled blindly for his glasses. Grabbing them, he slowed his frantic movements just long enough to slide them home. Nothing happened. Disoriented and confused, Harry felt his stomach grow cold as his heart grew ever more frantic.

He saw Riddle's glee, his naked ambition, and the raw, boiling hatred he had for his victims. And he saw what he did with Myrtle's body. The ritual was like nothing Harry had seen before, but it was clearly what had put the boy's mind into the book. And when the ritual was done, Riddle's face seemed to change. A chill spread through Harry as the truth became clear to him — why he had had a vision of Voldemort returning. For Riddle's face had waxed serpentine in the lamp light. And Harry could never forget the red flash in those eyes.

He slipped into shoes that had been most helpfully left at the foot of his bed, shoving a finger in behind his heel and gritting his teeth as he shoved his foot in, not only at the pain in his finger but in a desperate effort not to pass right out again. His still blurred vision was not helping with the nausea that filled his sinuses and coated his throat with oil. It was irrelevant. Harry was driven by a singular purpose, one that he had already died for. He would not be stopped.

Riddle sealing the Chamber with a look of painful regret. The smirk as he caressed the little black book.

Grabbing his robe as he started running, Harry prayed that Madam Pomfrey had left his wand in his pocket.

Thrusting his hand into the pocket, he smiled slightly. Time might not have been on his side, but apparently Lady Luck was his for the evening. Harry crashed through the large double doors and slid across the hallway.

He almost lost his balance. Something awful was... eating away at him, parasitic and hungry. It was like fear, but it was so much more than that. It was as if fear had gained substance, and was acting upon him — feeding off him. Harry remembered the sensation. It was just like last year, when Erised tried to claim him. He ran faster, biting his lip as he traced the pattern on the mirror-come-doorway's surface. Riddle was feeding off Ginny here, not him. It'd be the last thing the bastard would ever do.

He stumbled out of the secret passage's other mirror on the second floor, and right into the last thing Harry had expected to see.

It was not a duel, per se. More accurate phrasing would have been to call it a stand off, or a... crouch off. In front of Harry stood Gilderoy Lockhart, hiding in the doorway to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. However, a barrage of spell fire almost hid him from view. Looking across at who the man was pointing his wand at, Harry gaped. The Weasley boys and Neville were shielding Luna, who was cradling a limp arm.

"Leave them alone!" Harry roared, throwing forth his hands.

Lockhart did not have time even to look before a torrent of lightning lifted him off his feet. The professor was thrown backwards, and before he even had time to scream he hit the wall with a crunch. The slumped body lay still.

"Harry?!" said Neville.

"You're alive!" said Ron.

"Hey," said Harry. "Look, we're going to have to catch up later. Luna, are you alright? What did he do to you?"

"It was nothing, Harry Potter," said Luna. "I will suffer much worse than this."

Percy gave her a funny look. "She had a Stunner glance off her arm. It'll be numb and then sore for a while, but she is fine."

"Okay," Harry sighed heavily. "Honestly I was hoping I wouldn't run into any of you on the way down."

"You what?" said Ron.

"If you think you're doing this alone," said Neville. "You've got another thing coming. Remember last time?"

"Your leg exploded!" Harry said.

"Your heart got a breath of fresh air!" Neville yelled. "And this time we don't have Ginny."

The whole group sobered at that thought.

"I don't have time to argue with you," said Harry. "But Luna can't fight with a dead arm."

"You just got out of the infirmary for being near enough dead yourself," said Neville. "We've all been training, and we're going to save our friend. Help us or get out of the way."

Harry stared at Neville for a moment. It had not occurred to him that he would not be the most potent force seeking Ginny's salvation.

Neville, for his part, simply shook his head, brushing past Harry into Myrtle's bathroom.

"Come on," said Fred. "We might need that serpent tongue."

Harry found himself even more shocked by the complete absence of humour from the twins. It should not have been a surprise, but it seemed so anathemic to their very nature that even under the circumstances it was strange.

Finding himself being led into the bathroom where Myrtle had been killed, Harry regained his focus. The girl herself, who was sitting cross-legged on a cubicle wall, was staring down at him with wide eyes.

"Harry?" she said. "Is that really you?"

"I'm back," said Harry grimly, watching Neville frantically searching for something. "Tell me, Myrtle. Did you see exactly where that boy was standing? When you died?"

Myrtle's face scrunched up in concentration. "Err... over there somewhere I think."

Harry rushed over to the sinks, examining every inch of the tiling, the piping... The tap. Engraved into the side of a copper tap was a single, tiny snake.

'Hold out for me, Ginny,' Harry thought desperately. "Open."

Everyone but Harry staggered a step backwards as the sink and supporting wall juddered backwards.

"Ooh, it hasn't done that before," said Myrtle, delighted. "Although... What you just said... It sounded an awful lot like that boy..."

"Hey Myrtle," said Harry. "You'll look after the good professor for us, won't you?"

A slow, sadistic smile twisted Myrtle's mouth as she looked from Luna's arm to Professor Lockhart's slumped form.

In the meantime, the marked sink had dropped entirely through the floor, a little grate moving to cover it up. It left a hole between the remaining sinks — a circular pipe headed down through the floor in the centre of the room. It would easily be large enough to admit even Hagrid's vast frame. And yet somehow nobody had run into this pipe that must tunnel directly through the ground floor of the castle. 'Magic. Thou art an incredulous fiend.'

"Harry..." said a rather bashful looking Myrtle. "If you die down there, you're welcome to come share my toilet."

"Thanks, Myrtle," said Harry. "But I'm not going to die. That's Voldemort's job."

"You Know Who?" Fred gasped.

"He's been possessing Ginny," said Harry, aiming his wand light down the open pipe into the bottomless dark below. The pipe did seem to curve into a slope, however, suggesting a less gory outcome for the man to brave the fall. "And every time any of you found out, he wiped your memory."

"Why?" Percy frowned. "Why not simply kill us?"

"It would draw too much attention," Harry frowned. "Shall we use rope like last time or get brooms?"

"Brooms would take too long," George shrugged,his expression still incredulous. "Are the attacks not doing that already?"

"They're well spaced and all on Muggleborn," said Harry. "They were really only done for dramatic effect, apart from Hermione. She... interfered too much."

A dark look came over Ron and Neville's faces.

Harry gestured to Fred to hurry up conjuring the rope for them. "He's had time enough to build strength for his piece de resistance."

"Which is what, exactly?" asked Percy, putting a hand on Fred's shoulder and raising his own wand. "Accio broomsticks."

"A new body," said Harry.

The silence was as an oppressive blanket, smothering the group as they stood, staring as one at the boy who had thrice defied death itself.

"You're going to fight him?" said Myrtle in a small voice.

"You know, he's the one who killed you," said Harry. "Tom Riddle."

"What?" Myrtle gasped. "Tom...?"

"You knew him?" said Harry urgently.

Myrtle blushed. "I wouldn't say I knew him..."

"He was popular, huh?" said George shrewdly.

Myrtle just nodded, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Well, that boy went on to become the Dark Lord Voldemort," said Harry, as the broomsticks arrived with a soft whoosh. He laid a fond hand on his Nimbus, which hummed in recognition. "And we are going to kick his ethereal backside."

"Good luck," she said quietly, as one by one the group took to the air and rocketed down the pipe.

Raising his wand, Harry recast the Lumos Charm, leading the group at a pace that wasn't taxing any of their broomsticks, even Percy's rather old model that was supporting both him and Luna. In the relatively confined space of the pipe, however, it felt exhilaratingly dangerous, and Harry felt his body finally begin to settle. He was always home upon his broomstick.

"So the diary is Voldemort's?" said Neville from behind George.

"Yeah," said Harry. "It had me and Ginny enchanted since the end of summer."

"And he almost killed you without the snake," said Neville quietly.

"What's this about a diary?" said Percy.

"Me and Ginny found an old diary that wrote back to you," said Harry. "Turns out, Riddle stored a bit of his teenage self in it somehow."

"Acne and all?" said Fred.

"No acne," said Harry.

"Well, that's no fun," said George with little enthusiasm.

The pipe twisted and turned, slimy and filthy but carrying no waste to their collective relief. It branched off at multiple points too, and though Harry could not think what purpose the branches might serve, he could not be surprised that nobody had noticed these poking into hallways. Their pursuit of Ginny had taken them far beneath the castle.

Just as they were starting to tire of the endless dive (it was really rather an uncomfortable position to hold, especially with someone sitting behind you), the pipe began to truly level out. The end of the pipe came rather abruptly, obscured by its curve, and they shot out into the open with a collective sigh of relief. It might not have been a pretty picture that greeted them, but anything was better than the creeping claustrophobia and physical discomfort of a broom ride through the plumbing.

As it was, they had emerged into a relatively large tunnel. Harry would have liked to dismount, if only to rest his regrown wrists after their descent. However, being the sewer system, the floor did not look particularly inviting. Though the stone floor only covered a central path through the tunnel so as to allow sewage to flow either side, the surface glistened with wastewater, and Harry did not care to identify that which did not shine.

"Do you think the basilisk ate them?" said Ron.

"I think something that size would need to eat more than a few rats to survive the centuries," said Neville. "They probably just got unlucky, or had particularly nasty owners."

"So you do remember about the basilisk..." said Harry. "Good."

"Harry..." said Neville. "I have to tell you... In case we don't..."

"We're going to win," said Harry firmly.

"I know," said Neville.

There was a long pause. Harry could feel Luna's protuberant eyes on him from behind Percy, but everyone else was too overwhelmed by what they were doing to so much as think of anything to say.

"Seeing you in that hospital bed was one of the worst moments of my life," said Neville finally. "You have been the best friend I have ever known... Harry, if I don't make it out of this, just know that I was happy to go out fighting by your side."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Nobody will die today. We are all walking out of this."

"Let's set the br- BLOODY HELL!" Ron finished in a strangled hiss.

The party pulled up in front of a vast, looming shadow. If anyone had had doubts about the beast's identity, a moulted skin at least twenty metres long soon put them to bed.

"Alright, we need to be stealthy," said Neville. "Eyes down and ears open. If we hear anything I'll mirror shield us."

Harry looked at Neville curiously. If he had developed a defense against the basilisk...

"I'll take up the rear," said Percy.

"Not far now," said Harry, his hand twitching slightly. He didn't make any mention of how short on time they were.

As they passed by the skin, Harry examined it under wand light. He remembered the image he'd seen in his comatose state. The huge, empty yellow eyes. It was bigger now than it had been fifty years ago. Perhaps consuming Myrtle's life force had given the basilisk more... substance. Shuddering, Harry redirected his attention to the path ahead. Taking the brooms into the middle of the fight would do little more than jeopardise their primary means of escape, but Harry could sense that they had a considerable walk to come.

Into the growing light of their wands came a vast, circular door.

"Can everyone see where they are going without wand light?" said Harry.

A few murmurs of assent.

"Nox," said Harry, looking up now at the door in the dark as his eyes adjusted. Curiously, he did not need his eyes to see that it was there. "Open."

A vast array of interlocking snakes adorning the circumference of the door began to move. They moved with a decidedly un-stealthy level of noise.

"Alright, wands up and spells armed," said Neville. "Ready for anything, but do not do anything until we can be sure of Ginny's safety."

Keeping their eyes down and their wands hot, the group clambered through the massive hole. As soon as their feet hit the ground in what they quickly realised was the chamber proper, two great torches ignited in braziers on the walls to either side of them. Each torch looked at least twenty metres away. Harry pointed his wand at the ground and started walking steadily forwards. The floor was drowning, and he could smell the stench of sewage all around him.

"Bet old Slytherin was mighty proud of this place, eh?" Ron asked in a shaky voice. Harry didn't reply. The torches died suddenly. They all stopped dead, leaving only the soft dripping to echo around them. The chamber felt so empty. Too empty.

Harry shifted forwards a little. The chamber was unlikely to give up its secrets without a fight, and he felt suddenly unprepared. Reaching out into the darkness, Harry felt Ginny's strength waning.

"Please, Ginny," Harry muttered. "Please..."

The group moved carefully forwards, weighing each step upon the slippery, drenched stone. Time and fear weighed ever more heavily upon Harry's heart. But through it all, that voice remained. Harry opened himself to it, resting upon it his hope and determination. And the voice grew louder.

As suddenly as they had gone out, the torches erupted into flame. But they weren't alone. Harry risked a glance up, and gritted his teeth as he saw just how long the Chamber was. As he saw the small figure lying there. Lifeless.

He snarled as he began to feel the pull of Riddle's magic on her soul. The voice was more than a whisper now. It was the earth beneath him, and the skies above him, and it was telling him to run. It was then that he realised that he couldn't hear the others behind him anymore.

Slowing to a walk, Harry found himself right in front of Ginny. Her red hair fanned out around her head, its vibrance serving to underline the paleness of her face. Harry fell to his knees beside her, trying to ignore the looming, massive statue of Salazar Slytherin before them.

"Ginny," he whispered, swallowing around the lump in his throat. She was so still... Harry stroked her cheek softly with a trembling thumb.

It was stone cold.

Getting to his feet, Harry barely noted his friends approaching in the middle distance. "Where are you?!" he yelled. "Show yourself!"

"Right here, Harry."

He spun round, his wand snapping toward the wraith's heart like a magnet. Bile rose in his throat as he noted the dual core wand in Riddle's hand.

"My, my, Harry. Why so angry?"

Harry's lip curled. "I hope you're enjoying yourself, Riddle. No one deserves to die miserable."

"You see, this is why I like the two of you," Riddle went on. "So witty, so sharp... you almost remind me of myself."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and the Blasting Curse rose to his lips.

"I really must know, though. How did you know that I'd take on a form outside the diary?" Riddle asked curiously, gesturing to the little book clutched in Ginny's arms.

"You must have realised that the link worked both ways, Riddle. I saw what you did to Myrtle. I saw all your desires, and all your fear. And Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of a Muggle, I saw what you became," Harry spat.

Riddle's face was turning sour. "I became more than you could possibly imagine! The world came to fear my name!"

"Getting a little ahead of yourself there, aren't you? You couldn't even take Britain!"

"I had this land by the throat!"

"You lost it to a single Muggle-born," Harry sneered. "You think you're so superior, just because of your lineage."

Riddle sniggered lightly. "High moral ground is what you fight from, is it? Who crafted those words, Harry? Was it you?"

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Ron cried.

They both looked round. Ron was clutching his side and panting, the others close behind.  
"Harry, is that who I think it is?" Ron asked, throwing Riddle a suspicious look.

"Ah, Ronald Weasley. I've heard a great deal about you," Riddle said with deliberation. He was smiling pleasantly, but the sneer beneath was clear in his eyes.

"What are you doing to Ginny?" said Percy, wand glowing.

"Me?" Riddle asked innocently.

"No more games, Tom," Harry said quietly. Sparks jumped from the end of his wand.

Riddle recoiled almost visibly, and snarled, "Don't call me that."

Harry stepped carefully around Ginny, but kept his eyes firmly on his enemy. "You're still weak from our last fight. What could you do?"

"That was a bad question, Harry," Riddle said lazily. "It's not what I could do..."

Harry suddenly got a very bad feeling. Even as yells of horror went up behind him, Harry turned slowly, not wanting to see.

"It's what I can do." Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he heard her voice. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt her cold hand on his arm. "Please Harry, look at me."

"Ginny..." Fred choked out, staggering forwards before his twin caught him.

There was nothing Harry could do to stop himself. He shuddered as he saw her eyes, no longer their familiar, warm brown, but an empty, cold black.

"You see, now, don't you Harry?" Riddle said assuredly. "I am the greatest wizard in the world."

Harry glanced back at the silvery wraith. He finally found the strength to face... Ginny.

He cupped her face in his hands, and she smirked. He stretched out through their bond, and felt cold. An impossible, overwhelming cold. He took the plunge. It couldn't be described. It was falling without moving. He felt Riddle's hunger gnawing away at him, and shrugged it off. He'd lose more than his soul if he failed.

After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for, and held onto it as he opened his eyes. "Hold on, Ginny. For me. We won't lose, I promise. We can't."

"A pitiful sentiment hides a considerable ability," Riddle mused.

"None of us will join you," Ron stated.

Riddle sneered at him. "I don't believe I was talking to you, Ronald," he said harshly. "Harry, she is dying. Very soon, the life force that fuelled her will belong entirely to me. Don't be a fool. I could use your talents. You'd be a valued partner and ally. There's so much I could teach you."

Harry didn't look up from Ginny's eyes. He fancied he could see a spark of life, of warmth... of Ginny, in those dark depths. Whatever it was, it was worth fighting for.

When he looked back at Riddle, he didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"Well, I'm truly sorry," said Riddle. "Perhaps you will see each other, on the other side, as it were. Goodbye, Harry Potter."

The wraith turned his back on them. Harry drew his wand again, slowly. Ron fired a Disarming Charm right through Riddle, which splashed harmlessly on the stone wall. Harry felt something twist inside him when it was Ginny who spoke.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."

Harry turned to Ginny one last time. "It wasn't your fault. Ginny, I... I do love you."

"Harry, run!" George yelled.

"Fawkes!" Neville was crying.

With one last look at Ginny, he barrelled after the others. They all heard something immensely heavy hit the ground; Harry felt it through his knees. Fighting the instinct to look round, he followed the others back towards the entrance as Neville allowed himself to fall to the bank of the group. 'Help, please... Someone, anyone!'

"Fawkes, please!" Neville called. "Don't let it kill her! Don't allow innocent blood to be spilled here today, I beg you!"

Harry could hear the monster drawing near. It seemed to be taking a kind of perverse pleasure in drawing out the time until the inevitable.

Just then, Neville grunted with effort. A loud hiss from the snake, and a sound like a hammer blow on a gong. Harry turned to see his friend holding off the snake with a golden shield the size of a double decker bus.

"Now!" the boy cried.

Harry would not have believed that such beautiful synchronisation of spell casting was possible until he saw the twins working together to weaken the basilisk. Just as Fred's conjured stream of oil reached the basilisk over Neville's shield, George set it alight. Percy and Luna were chanting something or another while Ron tried his best to hit the snake with Stunning Curses. Ron's curses seemed to do little more than bounce off the armoured hide, but the snake was hissing frantically under the combined onslaught.

The voice in Harry's head urged him on, and he threw himself forwards, sliding towards the shield and aiming his wand up from underneath.

"Verdimillious."

It took all of Harry's willpower not to look at the result of his spell as he scrambled back behind the shield. From the power he had felt through his hand, and the way the basilisk had hissed, he knew that he had irritated it at the very least.

That was when he heard it.

A wave of calm and happiness washed over Harry, and once again he almost gave into the temptation to look round. Apart from the sewage beneath him, he could have been back in the common room. The air was warm and fragrant. The lighting was no longer flickering, but felt rather akin to sunlight. And he could hear the most beautiful music. It was as if... there were no words. Or perhaps there were too many.

Harry heard Riddle shout in outrage. Something flapped over Harry's head, and then something flopped on the ground beside him. He reached out, not wanting to risk catching a glimpse of the Basilisk's eyes.

It was the Sorting Hat! Harry was about to put it on when he was distracted by the sounds of battle beyond Neville.

"Look away!" the boy called urgently.

Obediently, Harry shielded his eyes as Neville took the opportunity to recast his shield. The hat was saying nothing, lying utterly limp in his hand.

"Back off!" said Neville, driving his wand downwards. The snake had been rearing to lunge over the vast barrier, but it suddenly stretched to fill the width and height of the Chamber, blocking the serpent off utterly. "Go on, Fawkes."

Sudden, aggrieved hissing, and the slamming of a tail weighing several tonnes upon the stone floor. The song only grew more beautiful, but Tom Riddle was screaming.

Harry could see little beyond Neville's shield, but a wave of alarm washed over him as he saw the shockwave hit the side of the chamber.

"Brace yourself, Neville!" said Harry, himself leaning in to the oncoming storm.

Time seemed to slow as the wave of pure rage slammed into the golden shield with all the impact of a feather on a wall. And yet Neville and his shield slid backwards, carried away as if a great gust of wind had taken him. Harry watched, incredulous, as first the shield and then the shockwave simply passed over him. A blue shimmer in the air was the only proof of their passing. His friends, however, were all swept away like chess pieces at the end of the game.

A moment passed. Harry turned. He was alone now with the snake, and Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. And Fawkes could not stop the basilisk from crushing him like an insect. Hurrying to put some space between himself and the battle, Harry did the only thing he still could do. He put on the Sorting Hat.

'Hello?' he called.

'No time, young Gryffindor,' the hat replied. 'Time to prove you were right, eh?'

As the Hat finished, there was a sudden impact on his skull, powerful enough that he saw stars, making Harry fall to his knees. The hat slid off his head, but something was sliding out of it! A ruby-encrusted hilt led a sword with definite engraved markings along the forte of the blade.

The Hat seemed to twitch on the floor, before disappearing in a flash of light. Straightening, Harry looked at the place where the Hat had disappeared, and nodded curtly before raising the longsword in both hands. It was heavy, and its blade alone was easily longer than his leg. However, even as he hefted the weapon, his arms seemed imbued with the strength to wield it. The metal shone, almost glowing in the dimly lit chamber, and its clean lines were as elegant as the rubies encrusted around the hilt were beautiful.

The basilisk had stopped writhing. Riddle was hissing something at it. Using the time to get used to the weapon, he brought it up and held it in both hands, trying to relax the death grip his fingers insisted upon.

"Forget the bird! The boy! Get him! You can still hear him! You can still smell him," Riddle was snarling.

Danger.

Rolling to the side, Harry reached out just as the basilisk was poised to strike. Lightning ran in rivulets down his fingers as he threw his hands up at the basilisk.

"For my parents."

The charge built, forming blue currents around the blade of the sword and turning his arms into Tesla coils.

"For my friends."

Harry dared to look up, the voice in his head urging him on, the fear staved off as if by his own personal guard dog. The great basilisk was blind. Fawkes, his beak bloody, had backed away, watching him.

"For Ginny!"

The basilisk collapsed backwards, rearing in agony even as it had tried to strike. For lightning now coursed through its gored eye sockets, frying the snake from the inside. But while Harry watched it suffer under the onslaught, Riddle was yelling and screaming at the snake. And through the pain, it reared once more.

Harry leapt aside just as the mighty snake crashed into the ground. The very earth shook with the power of it, and Harry knew he was running out of time. Even the twins' enchanted fires were dead now.

A tail the size of a small airplane came flying out of the darkness, but Harry had jumped high, high into the air and landed deftly upon the snake itself. Confused, it tasted the air to track him, but Harry was already in a dead sprint up towards its blind head.

Realising just in time what had happened, the snake turned to bite. Harry was thrown clean off. Though he could no longer plunge the heavy sword through its ruined eye socket, something peculiar happened. The same lightning he had earlier produced discharged from the sword like a rifle shot, forcing the snake to recoil as its wounds were insulted once more, its eye lit eerily from within. It seemed then to stop noticing the pain. Quiet now, the basilisk stared down at Harry.

He could hear his friends running to get back into the fight, but there was not time. Ginny was back to being passed out on the floor. He could feel her strength waning. Riddle was smirking victoriously while the mighty serpent reared up high above him, mouth open and ready to strike.

Harry dove to the side, bringing the sword around in a heavy slash which caught the basilisk in the side of the head.

Harry staggered. The sword had simply bounced off the armour-like hide. He could hear Riddle laughing just out of sight. Gritting his teeth, he dived sideways as the basilisk made another lunge for him, and scrambled into a run. As he got further towards the tail of the immense creature, he tested the strength of its defences here with another hefty swipe. The snake remained unharmed, and he had to throw himself to the ground to avoid a sweeping strike from the great beast's tail.

The snake was impenetrable to his blade, all apart from the eyes.

"You will not have her!" Harry cried, lightning consuming his whole body. It hurt. But even as he himself was raised off his feet, he knew that he was hurting the basilisk too. It thrashed and screamed and hissed in panic, while Harry kept up his onslaught until steam rose from its mouth and between its scales.

"Harry, look out!" Ron screamed.

The tail swung out with such speed as to be almost a blur to Harry. And soon, everything was a blur. He was caught just above the stomach. The energy coursing through him protected him to a degree, but he still felt as though someone had just given him a sweet kiss with a cricket bat. His ribs were on fire, and breathing was suddenly less comfortable than Harry was used to.

He landed on his arse on the sewage-soaked stone, sliding backwards in the shadow of the serpent. Raising its tortured head high above, it hissed angrily. "Enough! Meet your end!"

Seizing a desperate plan out of the air, Harry ran to Slytherin's statue, delaying the snake with a sword blast of lightning to the face, and began climbing it. The stupidity of the plan was beginning to sink in. He was only halfway up when the basilisk was in position to start striking at him again. Pulling his wand with his left hand, he sent a hasty concussion hex at its head. However, this only served to anger it further. Dark blood still pulsed from its eye sockets...

"Incendio!" he yelled.

The spell struck true, setting fire to the blood and sending the basilisk reeling. However, he'd now only increased the danger of his situation, since the basilisk was thrashing even worse than when he'd electrocuted it. Just as Harry reached Slytherin's head, the basilisk smashed itself into the wall beside him, almost throwing him clean off the statue.

He wasn't quite sure how he managed it, but Harry threw himself up and onto the smooth stone, where he found a moment's peace as the fresh fires on the basilisk died. Standing slowly, he struggled to maintain a good grip on the ruby-encrusted hilt of the sword with sweaty hands. The basilisk lifted its head, its forked tongue flicking out to taste his scent on the air. He didn't doubt that he stank like a pig to it. The serpent lunged, and he stabbed a heavy overhand stroke into its gouged eye.

The monster shrieked and spat as it withdrew. Harry planted his feet and stared into the mouth of the beast. It couldn't miss again, surely. Venom dripped copiously from several upper fangs. Riddle seemed to be watching each and every lunge hungrily, unable to conceal his pleasure at the situation.

"And so the Boy Lived No More," Riddle whispered almost inaudibly.

As the basilisk lunged once again, Harry accepted the inevitable. He wasn't going to leave this place. He looked over at the still form of his love, and found solace in the idea that he'd done all he could. Percy and Ron stood horrified, watching. Neville's wand came up, his lips moving feverishly, but too late. Harry's arms came forward instinctively to protect himself. He didn't notice the explosion which shattered the continuum around him. He did not hear the yells of 'No!' and 'Master'. But he did feel the searing heat, as the red beam of energy pressed into his outstretched hand.

He didn't blink, as that whisper in his mind guided his body. He simply flowed with it. Almost casually, he tore the weapon out of the hands of his adversary. Harry thought he could actually feel the menacing, malevolent nature of this person. It made a shiver run down his spine. And it was only then that he got a really good look at the man, if that was what it was. There were several small horns protruding from his hairless head, and his whole body was richly coloured in a complex pattern of red and black. Then there were the eyes.

This was the man he had crossed the universe to watch.

He spun as he pulled the blade, throwing it aside even as he reaffirmed his grip on his own sword, and faster than thought it came slicing through the air. The person's only reaction through all this was a widening of his eyes. He had no time for anything more before his body was cleaved in two at the hips.

Silence fell as the Sword of Gryffindor claimed its first life beyond its home galaxy. Harry fell to his knees, exhausted and confused, not daring to look the dying man in the face.

"What have I done?" he breathed.

It was a ridiculous and cruel turn of events that was so nauseating he could hardly breathe for shock.

Whatever it was drew a rattling breath before giving a sort of half-chuckle, half-snarl. "Begun the war, Jedi scum!" he ground out, before the blood loss overcame him.

There was a slight whooshing sound behind him, and he spun round to see a young man with an intense look on his face, and a glowing blue blade not much unlike the one of the man he'd just killed. It was then that he realised, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, exactly where he was.

"What have you done with my master, Force-sensitive?" the man demanded.

"I... I..." his rapidly rising heart rate warned him what was about to happen.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi Order! I cannot even sense him anymore!"

Harry knew no more as he keeled over, his world turning black.

He was getting too old for this. The Sith Lord's blade was spun for a reversed lunge even as his own was still rising from the initial impact, ready for a hefty slash. Time slowed down to a halt, but this was not his connection to the Force acting. Qui-Gon Jinn was being given the opportunity to savour his connection to the physical world for the last time.

He closed his eyes as he waited for the impossible heat, and death. For there was no death; there was only the Force. Maybe the pain would end. The chasm that had opened inside him on New Apsolon might finally be closed. A faint smile crossed his face. All was well. Obi-Wan would train little Anakin, and the Chosen One would bring balance to the Force.

But something was wrong. He felt a schism open in the very fabric of existence as the power of the Force swelled around him. There was no pain, no evil disturbance beyond the zabrak before him. There was only a great void that formed more and more clearly as the infinite energy of the Force was siphoned into it. One that he himself was being sucked into.

He kept calm as he was ripped from his body. He wasn't sucked up, per se, since there was no up. He might not have moved at all, but his perceptions of his Padawan and their opponent were becoming more and more distant. That was when he sensed it. It was so powerful and pure; he had believed it to simply be a part of the Force power fuelling this... whatever it was. But now that he could sense its emotions, he believed that it was another being. One who was afraid, and angry, and desolate. But it still made no sense.

The first thing he noticed when he returned to physical form was how his body seemed to continue from where it left off. Then he felt something that would have cost him his balance had the Force not been guiding him. There were hundreds upon hundreds of signatures above him. They were at least a klick above him, but still definitely there. However, they were not normal Force signatures. They did not merely dent and ripple the Force. They warped and stretched and tugged at it, creating multitudes of colours beyond what he could sense. It was as if they were part of something greater than the Force itself.

He brought his concentration back to the plane he'd been spirited to, and only got a glimpse of the thirty metre long snake before his blade impacted the side of its head. The lightsaber, on nearly full power, didn't make a mark. It acted remarkably like a club, sending the creature reeling with the power of the Force-imbued impact, which had been intended to send the Sith assassin flying down to the reactor core. Qui-Gon began searching with his feelings, trying to understand the snake's plight. What he found astounded him. He was forced to continue fighting by its relentless attacks. But he didn't want to. This creature didn't have an evil nature. Or any nature at all. Her mind was suppressed and empty, as if it had been wiped so often as to have lost all identity. The presence of another being was being channelled through her.

Using the Force to attempt to hold the creature, he looked around with dismay at the army of younglings and the bird that were in combat with this creature.

'What in the Force have I walked into?'

When Harry arose on the metal floor, he nearly had a panic attack remembering what he'd done. The two parts of the man's body lay where they had fallen, in a slowly spreading pool of blood. The feeling of evil was gone now. And he, he just felt empty. He'd failed. By now, Ginny would be dead, and Lord Voldemort had returned, and all because he was too weak, too stupid... He'd become a cold-blooded murderer for no reason at all.

"You're finally awake, then," he heard a voice from in front of him say. He looked up at the Jedi Knight, who was staring at the spot where he'd appeared.

"Yeah," he replied in a low voice. Voldemort wouldn't have wasted time. Neville, Ron and the others would be dead. Hogwarts in ruins... He sniffled. Dobby had been wrong to come to him. He should've gone straight to Dumbledore. The headmaster was a genius. None of this would've happened if only…

"Who are you?" the stranger asked.

"Harry Potter," he mumbled. He felt more than a little detached.

"You know," the man went on. "You have the oddest Force signature I have ever seen."

"I'm sorry?" Harry said.

The man sighed, and held up his lightsaber. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of the Jedi Order. Do you know of the Jedi?"

Harry gaped. Obi-Wan Kenobi himself?

"Which planet are you from?"

"Earth," he choked. "Look, I have a real big problem back home, and if you come with me we might be able to find that master you kept going on about."

"Earth? I've never heard of it."

"I know."

Obi-wan gave him an odd look. "We aren't going anywhere until you explain everything."

"There's no time! Your master could be dead already!" he yelled in frustration. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a legend. If he and his master couldn't help, no one could.

Kenobi seemed to scrutinize him before slowly nodding. He telekinetically pulled the fallen double-bladed saber to him before handing it to Harry. "Take this. That blade of yours is good, but it is nothing to this in a fight. Just don't let it touch you. You must let your feelings guide your actions rather than rational thought."

Harry pressed the first ignition button, and a red blade of energy formed from one end of the saber. Tucking the Sword of Gryffindor into his belt, he tested the new weapon's weight, only to find it didn't have any. The hilt was the only thing with mass, and it was balanced perfectly in his grip. It was rather disconcerting, having a weightless blade, but he found that it suited him quite well.

He nodded to Obi-Wan, and they grasped each other's left wrists. Harry then realised he didn't have a clue what he was doing, only to find himself leaving his body. It was a strange experience to say the least. Apparently, the Force could read his intentions just as magic could. Or maybe this was some jumped up form of Apparition.

The journey was long. Harry could sense the vast distance he had crossed in his coma, and yet it seemed to take no time at all before he was deposited back on solid ground.

Whirling on the spot, Harry saw that Riddle remained rather translucent, and almost jumped for joy at the fact that Ginny was still alive.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, ran to his master's aid, his lightsaber casting dancing shadows on the gloomy walls.

"You fools," Riddle snarled. "You think you can hold the thousand year old basilisk of the mighty Salazar Slytherin with your little tricks? Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!" Harry cried. But these were Jedi. He needn't have bothered. They leapt out of the way of the curse, and it smashed into a column with the force of a bullet train, debris raining down upon a hastily erected golden shield. Neville looked strained by the effort, wincing as he dissipated the barrier. The spell had taken a lot out of the shade, though. It had become quite significantly more fuzzy and transparent.

Riddle sneered at them, and sent a concussive curse of some sort towards the Jedi. They simply stood with their arms outstretched, and the spell glowed blue around them where it was forcibly dissipated. However, they were soon back to jumping and diving as the immense snake once again lunged for them.

Harry cradled Ginny in his arms, and stared entranced at the Jedi Knights. He couldn't feel her. But he could feel so much... He felt a dark, cold presence closing in beside him, and as his mind reflexively opened itself to the relatively new source of sensation, he was suddenly drowning in whole new dimensions of existence. He could feel everything in the chamber, from the hollow, dead vessel that was the basilisk to the vibrant, bright lights of the Jedi; from the draining orange/red glow of Ginny to the seething dark greens of Riddle...

He didn't spare the wraith a glance. Something was whispering into his mind. It was not a language Harry recognised, but it was a warm, comforting sound, and he understood perfectly. He took the diary from the floor and stuffed it into his robe pocket. Lifting Ginny tenderly in his arms, he carried her as swiftly as he could to Percy.

"I can finish this," said Harry.

A wide eyed Percy did not question him, taking Ginny and hurrying to a safe distance with the others covering him.

Harry looked long and hard at the basilisk, which was at a complete impasse with the Jedi. Both sides had seemingly impenetrable defences. Removing the ornate sword from his belt, Harry took a moment to look carefully at it. He was not as surprised as he thought he should have been when he saw that the engraved lettering spelled 'GRYFFINDOR'.

"Bet the twins never dreamed of a Sorting Ceremony like this..." he muttered. He relegated the blade to his left hand, and unclipped the lightsaber from his belt. The weapon gleamed equally as bright as Gryffindor's sword, and inspired just as much awe. Activating the blade, Harry held the two swords in front of him. The lightsaber was slightly longer. He switched the heavier weapon in his left hand to his right, and let their two points rest close to each other on the ground in front of him. He'd never imagined himself in such a position; he must have looked exactly the part of a warrior.

Danger.

Riddle was smirking as he casually sent some sort of curse towards him. Harry's initial instinct was to run, but the same warm influence in his mind subdued his fears. It left only his determination. He charged the spell, inspiring Riddle to raise a curious eyebrow. Harry swung with both blades, and the spell was split to either side of them, evaporating almost immediately into nothingness. Without breaking step, Harry ran to join the battle with the great serpent. Time slowed down, and in a eureka moment that wouldn't be appreciated for many a day yet, he realised that if the Jedi were real, then maybe there was an alternative explanation for his time-control abilities. Just as the great snake opened its jaws wide to snap and lunge once more at its Jedi foes, Harry leapt into the air. His right hand came up, two fingers outstretched, and he held the basilisk's mouth open with an invisible, yet iron grip. As he breached the rows of foot-long fangs, he jammed the lightsaber through the roof of its mouth and activated the second blade. There was no resistance. Just as Harry was leaving the cavernous maw, he turned his grip into a crush, slamming the basilisk's jaws together over the lethal instrument.

A sickening crunch was accompanied by a loud sizzling.

He snapped back into real-time with a jarring suddenness, disorienting him as the forward flip he'd been halfway through abruptly completed itself, and he only barely kept his feet as he skidded to a halt on the other side of the great snake head. Pressing the sword into the ground to turn him, Harry found himself throwing up a cascade of sparks as he slid across the drowned stone floor. The Jedi were staring after him. The snake, on the other hand, was twitching and shaking. Lightsaber blades are incredibly hot, after all. The beast's brain would have been vaporised. There was a smouldering patch on the top of its head that was crumbling and smoking as the red blade burned through. Its tail gave one last shudder, and was still.

As one, the three of them turned to look at Riddle. The boy was staring disbelievingly at the immobile serpent. He threw back his head, and let out a terrible, inhuman scream.

Harry was being buffeted by waves of cold, hard, unyielding barriers of air. He clamped his hands over his ears and slammed his eyes shut, but unfortunately, he now had a sense that he could not close himself off to so easily. The pain was indescribable. Suddenly, it was reversed, as if a switch had been thrown. He felt his strength being sucked from him, and fell to his knees groaning. He was unprepared for the next flip of the switch. In fact, he felt so drained, he wasn't sure he could have even tried to roll away. It was a detonation. But there was no energy to it. It was more like a very rapid expansion of nothing. A nothing that eradicated everything it touched — that consumed everything with a primal, insatiable hunger.

He was on the edge. He wouldn't be able to hold on any longer. It wasn't a physical injury. His very soul was being consumed. But there was one bright spot left within him. It was miniscule, but it was strong, and it was growing. For the wraith had overstepped his bounds. Harry drew strength from the growing presence within him. He saw it, and smiled. His eyes snapped open, and he was unhurt by the oncoming storm. Harry Potter climbed heavily to his feet, and began to fight the tide.

Though it was a difficult task, with every moment the warmth inside of him grew, giving him strength. A dim blue glow faded into existence before him, and suddenly his movement was eased. Still there was resistance, but rather than walking into a gale force wind, he was wading through the pond at home.

Harry pulled the diary from his pocket without thinking. It just seemed the right thing to do, and he'd built up too much momentum to stop now. He was going to end this.

Looking up at the origin of the ongoing blast, Harry noted that the waves of dark energy washing over him were being absorbed by some form of force barrier. They were beyond black. Formless things seemed to dance among the currents; it was a mesmerising effect, speaking of terrible beauty.

He came now upon the corpse of the mighty basilisk. Every wave of the blast seemed to strip away a thin layer of its armoured skin, moulting it by force. There was no time to fear for the Jedi. Once again, he forced its mouth open with the power of his mind, and retrieved the lightsaber. Hefting it in his right hand, he swung hard at the jaw of the snake, cutting loose several of the venom-dripping katana blades it called fangs. He discarded Gryffindor's sword, and threw Riddle's diary to the ground with it. Feeling nothing but relief, he stabbed a fang deep into the pages of the little book, and the voice in his head quieted. The blast waves slowly weakened, and as they died, his shield faded.

Silence fell.

Harry watched amazed as black, inky blood poured from the hole he had gouged. He looked up quickly toward the wraith. It had stopped screaming. There was a glowing hole where its heart would be, and it was growing slowly. But it was the expression on Riddle's face that surprised Harry. There was no insurmountable rage. Tom Riddle looked shocked, and scared. As the hole grew to the size of Harry's fist, the memory fell to its knees, Ginny's wand clattering to the floor as he stared disbelievingly at the mortal wound.

"No..." Riddle hissed. Harry didn't have time to look away. The wraith exploded like a bomb, releasing a golden light so intense, it blinded Harry. The last thing he managed before falling into unconsciousness's welcoming arms was to throw away the still glowing lightsaber before it could claim him too.

* * *

Dragon Man 180: I won't confirm or deny anything here. Spoilers and that :) Lockhart didn't have much choice though, as Luna just showed she knew his game, so it was either he pick the battlefield or they would pick it for him. Hah, I'm sure they'll figure something out! Thanks for reviewing :)


	42. 42 - The Jedi

The sunlight sneaked in through the bottom of the tall windows. It touched gently upon a lock of greying red hair, and moved steadily onwards, gently warming wood, stone and skin. A golden beam alighted upon a face just beginning to succumb to time, partially hidden by brown locks. He shifted under the attention, but did not wake.

That soft glow advanced up and up, touching on cool grey stone, yellowed parchment, soft grey owl feather...

The man jumped in his seat, instantly awake and aware. He turned and stared at the quill through narrowed eyes. It was scratching a cross on today's date on the calendar, just as it had for the last twenty-three days that he had been here. Sighing softly, he relaxed back into his seat and caressed his temples. For the first time in a long time, Qui-Gon Jinn was anxious to report to the Jedi High Council.

For the last few weeks, this school infirmary had been his prison. He didn't resent Albus Dumbledore's decision. He simply felt cut off from his Jedi duties. As such, he was spending a lot more time meditating and getting used to his new environment. Qui-Gon soon realised that his initial assessment of the beings here had been correct. They interacted with the Force in intriguing new ways. It wasn't different, per se. He was simply seeing more of the Force than he'd ever seen before.

The boy who had apparently brought him here lay unconscious on the hospital bed before him. Jinn's semi-conscious mind threw him straight back to the Chamber of Secrets, and what had transpired there after the battle.

* * *

"Master, do you know what's going on?" Obi-Wan called over his shoulder as he tended to the fallen boy. His ailment didn't really need diagnosis. They could both feel the chasm his over-channeling of Force energy had opened.

Qui-Gon Jinn looked slowly around the hall. "Know? I know nothing of where we are, what just happened, or who these people are... were." He gazed thoughtfully at the place where the ghostly apparition had disappeared. "I do have some ideas..."

"Who are you?" said a dark-haired youngling. He was aiming a small stick at them, similar to the one the apparition had attacked them with. "Step away from my friend."

Qui-Gon raised his hands in a placating gesture. "My name is Master Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. We do not know how we got here, only that this boy was in some way responsible."

A blonde girl rested a hand in the boy's arm. "It is alright, Neville Longbottom. They are friends. Aren't you?"

"I should hope so," said Master Jinn.

"She's waking up!" one of the other younglings said urgently.

Everyone hurried over to the small, red haired girl who was now stirring in what Qui-Gon presumed to be her sibling's arms.

She looked, disoriented and frightened, from face to face, before turning to the fallen boy.

She let out a little squeak, her bottom lip trembling dangerously. The two Jedi's attention was brought suddenly to a new anomaly in the Force. There seemed to be a bond of some sort between the two children. As they watched, it grew, and they realised that it had been there from the start — they simply had not noticed it before.

Force bonds were not uncommon. There was one between Jinn and Kenobi, as with most master-padawan pairs. They did not usually have a great effect, being more a symptom than a cause. Such bonds would form as a result of the closeness of the force adepts, serving to enhance that closeness and let them share emotions and communicate to a degree, even sharing their power. However, this bond was much stronger than those even the Jedi had encountered, and there was something odd about the boy...

"Harry..." the girl breathed. The pain in her eyes was humbling. As if a switch had been flipped, she too lost consciousness, sliding right back down to the ground. Even as her family reacted with alarm, rising rapidly to help her, they were all repulsed gently, gliding backwards over the wet floor. The bond between the younglings flashed into visibility, nearly blinding them. Neither had seen such a thing before. While they watched, it pulsed, and the two children were slowly brought together. Mystified, the Jedi watched for any detail they might relay to the Council. No matter how little Master Jinn liked it, this was beyond him and _required_ the Council's wisdom.

As the two came into contact, there was a pulse of blue light that dazzled the mundane senses of the observers. But in the Force, Qui-Gon Jinn witnessed the energy fade. Once more, the bond was a barely noticeable thing, invisible to the casual eye. As their vision returned to them, the Jedi saw the children locked in an embrace that seemed entirely inappropriate for their maturity. But they knew better than to interfere with the will of the Force.

That was not true of everyone.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," said the tallest. He tried to approach, but a barrier of blue light repulsed him once more. "What is this? Are you doing it?"

He looked pointedly at the Jedi, but they were as bemused as he was.

"Right, well," he said. "Mother's going to have a fit."

His brothers groaned. The dark haired one actually cracked a smile.

"We're all alive," he said. "We won!"

"What about Harry?" said another.

"Unconscious," said Qui-Gon.

"Again?" said one of the twin boys. A round of sniggering followed.

"I can just see Hermione when she wakes up," said the youngest red haired child. "Oh but think of all the _homework_ he needs to catch up on!"

Smiling at their desperate, relieved grasp at joy, Qui-Gon returned his attention to the unconscious pair. He was missing so much information. Seeing that they were unlikely to be allowed closer access to the bodies, he and his apprentice returned to the vanquished foes.

Qui-Gon busied himself with analysing the great snake, while Obi-Wan retrieved the little book from its mouth and attempted to decipher its importance.

"We could use Vos's talents with this," Obi-Wan muttered, flipping blank page after blank page. Quinlan Vos was another unruly knight, with psychometric abilities that allowed him to see the past experiences of objects through contact. He had always rubbed Obi-Wan the wrong way, and it was a mark of how lost they felt that his padawan would be willing to accept help from Vos.

Once again, and just as suddenly as before, they felt another benevolent presence in the Force. There was a burst of song as a beautiful bird drifted down to them. Qui-Gon smiled at it. His close connection to the Living Force allowed him to sense its pure intentions. It settled on the ground before them looking remarkably pleased with itself.

"Hello," Qui-Gon said. "You don't know the way out of here, do you?"

 ** _'_** ** _It might be more polite to introduce yourself, first, you know,'_** a voice replied in his head.

"Please, excuse my manners. I am a little disoriented, but that is no excuse," Qui-Gon replied, smiling. "I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi Order, and this is my Padawan learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

 ** _'_** ** _Pleased to meet you,'_** the bird trilled. **_'I am Fawkes, a phoenix of the Order of Guardians. Welcome to the Milky Way galaxy.'_**

Qui-Gon's eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry — what galaxy?" A glance at his Padawan convinced him that Obi-Wan was probably hearing the same things he was.

 ** _'_** ** _I am afraid that you are a very long way from home,'_** Fawkes sighed. **_'Do not worry yourselves — you will be able to get back. Harry will wake.'_**

"Why is the boy so important?" Qui-Gon said.

The phoenix trilled with his laughter. **_'You have a great many questions, young one. The boy is special. I will leave it at that. There is only so much I can reveal to you. You are in a galaxy far, far away.'_** The bird laughed musically, and while Qui-Gon's worries were eased, he felt misplaced — as if he was party to a private joke. **_'Do not worry yourself, young Kenobi,'_** Fawkes continued. **_'I can assure you that you are perfectly safe, and the galaxy you are used to will be just the way you left it when you return there.'_**

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked. "Is this some different universe, that our realities are so different as to exist on different planes of space-time?"

The bird, however, had already disappeared, reappearing on the shoulder of one of the approaching younglings. She smiled radiantly at the bird as it seemed to commune with her, before simply allowing her to stroke and pet it. The other younglings gawked openly. It had just finished accepting the stammered thanks of one of the boys before turning back to the Jedi.

 ** _'_** ** _No; and yes. You will have to discover these things for yourself.'_**

At that, the phoenix burst into flames and disappeared.

Qui-Gon walked over to where Harry and the girl lay entwined on the ground. When he got within a few metres of them, he met with a resistance, and stopped. He felt like he was being tested. After a short while, the resistance eased. Careful not to disturb either child, he retrieved the double-bladed lightsaber hilt from Harry's hand. "It was a curious experience," he mused. Obi-Wan looked up from his examination of the basilisk's fangs. "To be so certain — the Force provided me with no warning. And then to be wrenched from reality like that..."

"Master?"

He glanced back at Obi-Wan. "What did you see, Obi-Wan?"

"What do you mean, Master?" Obi-Wan replied, confused.

He sighed. "When the... switch occurred. What did you see?"

"I... Nothing, Master. One moment you were there and the next the boy was slaying the Sith," Obi-Wan replied, shaking his head.

"Slaying the... this boy killed the Sith Lord alone?" Qui-Gon remarked. "That is incredible."

"What is more, he pulled the blade from the zabrak's hands as he was — no cortosis gauntlets were involved," Obi-Wan said. Cortosis was legendary, and highly expensive, for being the only known material to entirely resist a lightsaber blade.

Qui-Gon blinked, and stared at the boy's hands. He couldn't see their palms, but there were none of the usual symptoms of contact with a fully powered lightsaber. For instance, he still had a full complement of limbs. "He is already well-versed in the use of the Force. Strange."

"Master, this boy wasn't affected in the slightest by the effort!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, surprised at his Master's lack of reaction.

"Obi-Wan, the Chosen One has been found. We are in a different galaxy. Rarities are to be expected." He stood up, and left the protective bubble, which flashed blue as it sealed.

At that moment, Fawkes flashed back in with an elderly man who had exceptionally long hair and an equally long beard, both tucked into his belt.

"Professor Dumbledore!" said the eldest.

The man surveyed the battlefield for a moment, took stock of the Jedi, and sighed deeply.

"What happened here, Mr. Weasley?" said Professor Dumbledore. "Have there been any casualties?"

"No injuries, sir," said the boy. "And Harry and Ginny are alive, though something strange happened when Ginny awoke..."

"Sir, how are you back?" said Neville.

The bird trilled something, but Qui-Gon could no longer understand. He did feel that the bird was far more amused than the man. In fact, the man seemed rather concerned through the Force.

"Fawkes alerted me that a group of students had decided to take on the legendary monster themselves in an effort to save young Ginevra," said Professor Dumbledore. "I did not wait for the details, although it would appear that you have done quite well for yourselves."

The redheads seemed varying degrees of pleased with this. The girl remained unmoved, however, and the dark-haired boy... suspicion was a mild term for the thoughts in his mind.

Seeming to recognise this, the man sighed. "I understand that you are upset. But what possessed you to come down here yourselves rather than inform the staff of the entrance?"

The boy said nothing, and the girl stared at Professor Dumbledore with wide, protuberant eyes.

"We will discuss this with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick later," said Professor Dumbledore.

The professor turned away from his students to face the Jedi, greeting them with a genial smile.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of the school which you are standing half a mile beneath. Fawkes tells me that you aren't familiar with our planet. I hope you will excuse me a moment, but I must escort my students back to our hospital wing."

"Of course," said Master Jinn.

The Headmaster tried to examine the unconscious pair, but on being rebuffed by the protective field that seemed to surround them he signalled to Fawkes. The phoenix bobbed his head, and glided over. The shield flashed blue again, but it did not hold Fawkes back. Soon, the phoenix had taken all of the children to the Infirmary.

Feeling out of place, as neither were proficient in Force Healing, they waited for the old man to return for them. A few, long minutes later, he did, and the three of them flame-travelled to his office. It was a... pleasant experience. The cool fires put to rest worries and troubles Qui-Gon had thought himself already long past. When they landed, he found himself not feeling quite as old and tired as he had not an hour before.

"Sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore asked, holding out a box of yellow sweets.

"Thank you," they replied. The tangy sweets were oddly revitalising. Dumbledore smiled genially, and tapped his nose.

"I imagine you'll be quite curious about... everything, really, aren't you?"

Qui-Gon smiled wearily. His Padawan held his tongue, and Qui-Gon felt even better than he had. Obi-Wan was ready for the Trials. This would be a truly testing situation for anyone.

Dumbledore let out a breath. "I have called on our astronomy teacher, Professor Sinistra. I hoped that we might be able to start by exploring the possibility that our planets are in some way aware of each other. According to Fawkes, you come from a galaxy-wide conglomeration of societies..."

"Yes, the Galactic Republic spans many star systems in our galaxy," Obi-Wan offered. "But our knowledge of galaxies beyond our own is limited. There is an... anomaly beyond the edge of our galaxy which prevents us leaving it via hyperspace. And without faster-than-light travel, there isn't much point in trying."

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly. "It appears that we have much we might learn from each other."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I hope that we will."

"However, there is something I must ask of you," Dumbledore said in a manner which put the operative in his statement in some doubt. "You must stay within the confines of our infirmary and my office for at least the next few weeks."

Obi-Wan sagged slightly. "We are the first extra-terrestrials your planet has encountered, aren't we?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"A hunch," Obi-Wan admitted. "A few weeks doesn't sound so much like customs as quarantine. You didn't seem to recognise anything I was talking about when I mentioned space travel..." His brow furrowed as a mystery struck him. "Does anyone find it odd that every planet in the Galactic Republic seems to come with at least one new being, and several languages for each, then we come to a different galaxy and not only do we encounter beings of apparently the same species, but who speak the same language?"

Qui-Gon and Dumbledore started at having the obvious suddenly revealed.

"Ah, come in, Aurora," said Dumbledore, standing. He and Obi-Wan followed suit.

A tall woman with dark skin, hair and eyes drifted into the room, taking in the Jedi with a glance.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" she asked.

Qui-Gon noted that every humanoid on this world he had met so far had been wearing robes, and the adults had both been wearing tall, pointed hats.

"Yes, my dear professor, I did," Dumbledore replied. "We require your expertise to achieve our strangest of objectives. We need to find our galaxy."

"The, ah, Milky Way, Headmaster?" Sinistra asked, shifting uncomfortably as she found herself on the wrong foot.

"Precisely," Dumbledore agreed. "But not from our point of view. From theirs." He indicated the two men. "Aurora Sinistra, Professor of Astronomy; Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knights of the Galactic Republic."

"Oh?" Sinistra enquired, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Care to show us your weapons, Jedi?"

They glanced at each other. If they didn't even know of the existence of this place, how could people here know of them? Shrugging, Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and powered it up.

The Professor blinked slowly, swallowed thickly then reached a hand out, entranced. Obi-Wan hurriedly retracted the blade. Sinistra snapped out of it, and then gaped at the two of them. "That's impossible!"

"I feel more and more poorly informed as the minutes pass," Dumbledore said good-naturedly.

"I see where your problem lies," Sinistra muttered. She produced a roll of some heavy-looking paper from within her robes, and stretched it out to cover the Headmaster's desk. "Show all known galaxies," she said clearly, tapping a short, crafted stick to the paper. The delicate, hand-drawn graphics zoomed out until they showed a strangely negative image of a few hundred galaxies. "I don't know whether or not-"

"Wait," said Obi-Wan. "How is it that you know of the Jedi?"

The woman fidgeted. "I'm not sure it's my place to say," she said hesitantly. She seemed unwilling to meet their eyes. "Anyway, I don't know if you have the same names for these galaxies as we do..." She left the statement hanging.

"We don't like to name celestial bodies before we get there," Qui-Gon clarified. "Sometimes corporations who systematically exploited planets for their resources would simply assign names to star systems randomly. However, the Galactic Republic will look for civilisation on planets, and try to make official their own name for the planet. Since we have no way of reaching other galaxies, we simply haven't given them names, only code-numbers."

"I see," Sinistra replied. "Well, let's see if you can recognise anything on here."

They had examined the diagrams and drawings for quite some time before Obi-Wan spoke up.

"I think I see something," he murmured. "Master, over here. That would be the Rishi Maze..."

They looked up at Sinistra, who muttered something, again while pointing that stick at the paper. It glowed faintly silver, and slowly magnified. When it stopped, Obi-Wan blinked. "Well, it would appear the phoenix was right, Master."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon replied. "We _are_ a long way from Naboo."

"I take it you have located yourselves?" Dumbledore asked.

"If we are right, we are several millions of parsecs from home," Obi-Wan said. "So I suppose that explains why the comlinks aren't working."

Sinistra's lips twitched. "You could try turning them off and on again," she ventured.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Obi-Wan replied, grinning.

He brought out his comlink and hit the power button. To his confusion, the indicator lights remained on. Dumbledore sighed as Obi-Wan once again hit the power button. The device fizzled and spat sparks before starting to glow red-hot. Obi-Wan dropped it, but kept his hand extended, holding the comlink suspended in the air with the Force. Sinistra's eyes visibly glowed with pleasure. It melted in front of them, the sophisticated bit of electronic wizardry becoming a ball of glowing slag in less than twenty seconds.

"Maybe not such a good idea, then," Obi-Wan said apologetically.

"Before any further damage is done," Dumbledore interjected, smiling, "I think we had better start telling you about our world and how it might differ from your own. You don't mind, do you, Aurora? Only, you seem to know more about them than I do."

"Of course, Headmaster," she replied, rolling up the paper and tapping it with that stick of hers. To Qui-Gon's astonishment, it shrank to the size of a credit chip before she tucked it away in an inner pocket of her robe.

Dumbledore released a breath. "Where to begin? Perhaps I should start with a more detailed explanation of where we are. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded around a thousand years ago by the four greatest sorcerers of the age..."

* * *

Qui-Gon groaned quietly, massaging his temples. Even the cursory use of the Force he had used to better absorb the information had been exhausting. Then again, they'd been talking in that office for a very long time. He envied Obi-Wan's youthful energy.

At the same time, his respect for the boy's wisdom was growing. For though Obi-Wan still had something of the impatience of youth, he too had sensed something off about the Headmaster. Everybody in that chamber had had pure intentions. The bird was a diamond beyond compare to be certain, but the professor had been... clouded in a way that made Qui-Gon uncomfortable. There was a hint of the dark side to be sure, but that was not at all what had unsettled him.

So when it came time for them to share information of their own home, and the powers they possessed, the Jedi remained a little economical with the truth. There was a sufficient volume of information that it did not appear that they were holding back, nor did the astronomer seem to know about them in vast detail. So Dumbledore remained ignorant of their clairvoyance and time manipulation abilities. They could only trust in the Force that that would be enough should something go wrong.

"Are you alright?"

Qui-Gon looked up to see Ginny Weasley blinking sleepily. He found the happy smile on her face intriguing. He had never seen her smile before. It had a strange, uplifting effect on him. "Yes, but somehow I feel that you are in a better mood than I."

She beamed. "He'll wake today."

He blinked. "Harry, you mean?"

Ginny nodded with a grin that would shame a Nexu cat. "He awoke last night, but he can't wake up for a while yet."

"I see," Qui-Gon replied. "Maybe you should tell him that there isn't any real hurry. Well, there is, but the interrogation he'll be put through when he does wake might be a bit much if he isn't ready."

"I can answer your questions," Ginny told him.

He frowned at her for a moment, then the knowledge came back to him. "Your bond has advanced," he stated. She nodded in reply. "Speaking of that, Dumbledore will want to know everything about that. Not to mention your parents."

Her cheeks darkened slightly. "Don't talk about it like that!" she hissed. "Everyone talks about it like it's something... inappropriate!"

Reaching out with the Force, Qui-Gon felt her indignation, and also her insecurity. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I just meant to warn you, I wasn't trying to imply anything."

"But it's what you think, isn't it?" she replied. Some of the harshness was gone, but it had only been replaced with hopelessness.

"Ginny, I come from an order where personal and emotional attachments are forbidden," he started.

"But it's more than that, isn't it?" she interrupted.

Qui-Gon sighed softly. He'd been warned about her empathetic talents. "I don't want to discuss that."

"And yet my relationship is going to be examined, gossiped about and whatever else for years to come?" she pressed.

He shook his head, realising how far off-topic they'd come, and wondering why the Force hadn't alerted him to such a manipulation. "Look, this really doesn't matter." She raised a challenging eyebrow. ' _It_ doesn't _matter!'_ "Can you tell me how Harry managed to transport himself, myself and my Padawan across the entire universe?"

She stared at him for a few seconds, then seemed to let it go. "He didn't."

"I'm sorry?" he asked incredulously.

"It wasn't him," she clarified. "He was only the conduit, channelling the energy."

"What energy?" he enquired.

She scrunched up her face in her deliberation. "We're not sure. It just sort of happened. And when Harry brought Mr. Kenobi he didn't know what he was doing. He wanted them back here, and then they were back here."

"Most curious," said Master Jinn. Obi-Wan knelt next to him, having arisen from his meditation.

"The only thing we know is that if it hadn't happened then," Ginny sighed, "you both would have died."

"I am prepared to believe it," said Master Jinn, sharing a glance with his student. "What do you know of his killing the assassin?"

"Very little," Ginny shrugged. "He saw the man kill you multiple times while he was unconscious before. A kind of wordless voice in his head led him across the universe to you… He says he felt a bond form between himself and you, and to be honest that's the only clue we have about how you... _switched_."

Qui-Gon mentally added clairvoyance to the growing list.

"He was pretty upset at the time," Ginny added. "That was the first time he'd killed someone. Well, someone who hadn't attacked him."

"He has killed before?" said Qui-Gon sharply. The Force defied him to understand how this boy could be as pure as he was.

"And he nearly died doing it," Ginny sniffed. "I suppose it was a team effort, but..."

"What are you?" said Obi-Wan. "Monster hunters?"

"Friends... and more," said Ginny. "Any more questions?"

"Actually, yes," Obi-Wan replied. "You've been party to the mind of a Dark Wizard. What would you say made him Dark?"

Ginny closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. They could feel her distress. "I think I understand why you're asking. I saw quite a bit of his mind, it's true, so I'll tell you all we can figure out. Tom," she shuddered, "never actually _turned_ evil. But he was always very angry. His mother died in childbirth, and his father..."

"Yes?" Qui-Gon prompted.

Ginny seemed to struggle with the phrasing. "Wasn't there. I mean, he literally wasn't there. Tom only knew his name because his mother named him after him.

"He was really smart, too, and that was probably the real problem. He lost interest in kids' games really quickly, if he ever had any. And he saw the flaws in the carers at the orphanage — alcoholism, laziness and neglect... it fed his anger and made him reclusive and untrusting. Then he started developing powers. Magical powers. When people annoyed him, he used his powers to hurt them. And he was so angry all the time — everything annoyed him. He started collecting trophies from the other orphans, and... his fondest memory was his first attempt at mind magic. He took these two kids into a cave, and..."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably as the youngling choked back a sob.

"The boy is no longer here, child," Qui-Gon said soothingly. "Let that be, we don't need to know what he did there."

Ginny nodded gratefully, and took a slow, deep breath. "When Dumbledore came and told him he was a wizard, he was so happy. He thought that his father must have been some great wizard and just hadn't known about him, because there's no way a witch could die giving birth in some dilapidated orphanage..."

"The child sounds psychopathic," Qui-Gon interjected.

Ginny frowned at him for a moment, then shrugged her assent, as if just remembering what psychopathy was. "I guess he was."

"Well, I suppose that's something," Obi-Wan smiled. "Know your enemy."

"I could stand to know less," Ginny grimaced. "He was a monster."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon agreed. "It certainly seems that way. But all that goes up must come down."

"Good morning," Mrs Weasley yawned. "What have I missed?"

"Harry's going to wake up today, Mum!" Ginny enthused.

The woman literally jumped to attention. "When, Ginny? I need to get Arthur and the boys... What's the time? Will they be up yet?"

"Please calm yourself," Obi-Wan begged, "you'll give yourself an aneurysm."

She glared at his Padawan while he and Ginny stifled their laughter. "Hold your tongue, young man, or I'll fix it for you! If my son is waking from his coma today, I have every right to make a fuss."

"Urgh, consciousness is so overrated."

"Ginny! Get off him!" Mrs Weasley cried.

When Ginny did surface, Harry's grimace had been replaced with a grin. "Or not."

"Welcome back, Harry," Qui-Gon offered.

"Couldn't let you bother her all day," Harry laughed. Ginny punched him in the shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said. "There is a lot we don't understand here."

"Tell me about it," Harry replied. "Ginny told me the diary's dead..."

"So you _have_ been talking telepathically," Mrs Weasley breathed.

"Yes, Mum," Ginny admitted. "It was my idea not to say anything."

"But why?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Ginny sighed. "I just wanted something special."

"Because we know that I'll never be enough," Harry grinned.

"Something secret," Ginny glared at him. "Something I shared with Harry that no one else could ever have."

Harry embraced her tightly. "You're not going to lose me Ginny. I crossed the damn universe so Riddle wouldn't have you."

She burst into tears. "I was watching you, Harry. I could see through his eyes. Every time that snake..."

"Shh," Harry said.

They either remained silent for a while after that, or switched to telepathy, but Ginny did calm down.

"I know that he is dead," Harry said. "What about you? How did you do?"

"I'm touched that you ask, Harry," Qui-Gon replied. "We were fine, thank you. It was rather more of a struggle than we are used to from our opponents, but our combined defensive techniques were up to the task."

Harry nodded to them. "See, Ginny? Everyone was fine."

"Everyone would have been a lot better if I hadn't..."

"Hey," Harry stopped her. "Don't even think about blaming yourself. He got me too, didn't he?"

"Harry, you fought back," Ginny said despondently. "He gave up on you and just knocked you out."

"And you didn't fight back?" Harry challenged. "Ginny, I saw into his mind. He lost his patience with you _because_ you weren't allowing the basilisk to kill."

She hid her head in his shoulder. "Harry, I should've been able to do more."

"Ginny, he's Lord Voldemort," Harry said firmly. Mrs Weasley gave a little whimper. "You're eleven."

"He was a shade," Ginny argued. "I..."

"He put me in hospital for three whole months," Harry scoffed. "You have to stop punishing yourself."

"But I should've known better," Ginny whispered.

"We both should've known better," Harry said. "We should've told Dad about a weird book that writes back to you. We should've told Professor Dumbledore there was a memory of one of the old head boys talking to us. There was plenty of stuff either of us might have thought to do, but Ginny I didn't do any of it either."

Qui-Gon had begun to feel that they were intruding on something private rather a while ago, but somehow he still couldn't make himself turn and walk away. He looked to his Padawan. Obi-wan had a very strange expression on his face as he watched the two younglings. "We should test them," Qui-Gon said softly.

Obi-wan looked up, surprised. "I thought you were confident in Anakin as the Chosen One."

Anakin Skywalker, a young slave boy they had freed on the planet Tatooine, was incredibly strong in the Force, and with no training whatsoever. Qui-Gon was indeed confident that the boy was the prophesied Chosen One, who would restore balance. He wasn't quite sure what that would entail. However, now that the Sith order, antithesis and anathema to his own, were returning he could hardly believe that it would be a bad thing.

"I am," Qui-Gon affirmed. "But one does not simply jump across the universe. There is something about this boy... You must feel it too. And I think it important to test the girl too, considering their bond."

"What kind of tests are these?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Blood tests," Qui-Gon explained. "My order is based around a shared connection to the Force. The Force is an energy which permeates the entire universe, binding all life forms together. We do not fully understand it, but we have spent millennia studying it and will continue to do so.

"It is the Force that grants us our 'powers', if you will. The Force also leaves traces, however. Life forms have varying connections to the Force, and this can be seen through the presence of midichloreans. They are symbiotic organelles which reside in all of our cells, and a greater connection to the Force seems to stimulate them to higher concentrations in the body. We believe that it is through them that we communicate with the Force."

Mrs Weasley sat there for a moment, letting that sink in. "Why do you want to test my children?"

"Harry seems incredibly strong in the Force," Qui-Gon said. "I am curious to know how his connection relates to Ginny's, considering the nature of their bond. I am also considering to offer Harry training."

He could feel Obi-wan's despair. The High Council wouldn't like this. Harry was even older than Anakin, and they'd thought he was too old to begin training. But Qui-Gon had just been teleported across the entire universe. He didn't plan to give the Council a choice in the matter.

"You're going to have to elaborate about this training," Mrs Weasley said. "And it's also going to have to wait until my husband gets here."

Qui-Gon nodded. He understood her concern. "Harry, do you mind if I ask a few more questions?"

"Go on," Harry invited. Ginny didn't seem to be sobbing anymore, but she remained very close to Harry.

"Was that day in the chamber the first time you used the Force? Do you remember previous occasions?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I suppose there might be times I'm confusing with magic," Harry shrugged. "I think I remember a couple of things that were probably the Force though."

Qui-Gon nodded, inviting Harry to continue. It would hardly be surprising in someone of Harry's apparent calibre.

"There have been a few times when time slowed down for me," Harry said. "I don't think that was magic, because I've never heard of it before, and I think Hermione would've mentioned something about time magic."

"There is time magic, Harry," Mrs Weasley said. "It is forbidden to travel in time using magic, but there are spells you can use to lock something in time and so on. It's all very complicated though, and it uses the kinds of rituals that need many sorcerers working together."

"Oh," Harry said simply. "Well, it might've been magic then."

"How did it happen?" Qui-Gon pressed.

Harry squinted at empty space. "Err... I guess it always happens when I'm fighting. It happened with Malfoy, both times I've fought Voldemort, and when we went paintballing."

"So that's how you hit their paintballs," Ginny gasped.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "I guess. I thought I was a bit lucky though."

"There's no such thing as luck," Obi-wan said. "Only the Force."

"Slowing down time is a considerable ability," Qui-Gon praised. "However, it is extremely common. The degree to which it was done is what will decide exactly how much you have achieved prior to any training. Now, what of this bond? What can you tell us about it?"

Harry shrugged again. "You already know that it formed about a year and a half ago. We could sense where the other was, and talk telepathically when we were touching. I guess I've always been better at sensing where she was than the other way around. Err... It got stronger after our first kiss. Oh, I thought I covered that with telepathy. We can sense each other's emotions."

"This definitely resembles a Force bond," Qui-Gon said. "I don't know what kind of bonds exist here...?"

"There are a few," Mrs Weasley said. "The most common is the marital bond, which we make ourselves. Then there's contracts, which can be made on purpose or by accident. Then there's the soul bonds and mind bonds, which no one understands, really."

Just then, Mr. Weasley came rushing out of the fireplace. "I just got word," he said. "Are you alright Harry? Ginny?"

"We're fine," they chorused.

"My word!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, rushing in. "I told you he needs space and rest!"

It was true, she had demanded that they leave him be as much as possible. Her strict visitor rules were probably half of the reason why Harry had chosen this time to fully waken. Madam Pomfrey had been busy in another meeting and had entrusted the infirmary to her apprentice. The girl was desperately keen to please the more experienced healer, but at the same time was quite reasonable. After a few days of subtle suggestions Qui-Gon had slowly convinced her of the advantages of a more sociable environment.

"Apprentice Cooper!" Madam Pomfrey called.

"Madam Pomfrey, I have been monitoring them," said Cooper. "Hygiene has been enforced and rest properly protected. The boy needs his friends and family, ma'am."

"We will discuss this later," said Madam Pomfrey sternly.

Cooper was not cowed. Qui-Gon was certain that she would make a fine medical professional soon.

"Now Mr. Potter, tell me how you feel," Madam Pomfrey asked softly.

"A lot better with Ginny here," Harry grinned, pulling the girl closer. She laughed and pushed away. "How do you feel, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I... I'm examining you, Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey said. "But fine, thank you. Mr. Potter are you in any pain at all?"

She had started moving her wand, as they called it, over Harry's body. A network of lights started glowing all over him in a tangle of greens, blues and yellows. His head, however, was glowing with a bright white light, just as it had when Madam Pomfrey had first run these tests and every time since.

"I wonder," Madam Pomfrey muttered, before casting over Ginny too. Her head also glowed bright white, and Qui-Gon could hardly see their faces anymore. "Remarkable. This is a bond of some sort, but I do not recognise it. It's not my area of specialty."

"They'll definitely be alright?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Of course we're gonna be alright, Mum," Harry laughed. "We didn't do all that just to die now."

Mrs Weasley rushed over to embrace the younglings. Mr. Weasley stood chuckling to himself. "I'm proud of you two," Mr. Weasley said finally. "Really proud. You have no idea just how much you accomplished."

"We're sorry, Daddy," Ginny said tremulously. "We should've come to you first."

"Perhaps," Mr. Weasley allowed. "But could you, really?"

"No," Harry said. Ginny started to protest, but stopped at a look from Harry. "No, Dad, we couldn't. As soon as we wrote in that book, he had us. We just weren't prepared for it."

"And unprepared, the two of you defeated a young You-Know-Who," Mr. Weasley praised. "With some help, of course." He nodded to Qui-Gon and Obi-wan. "I never got to thank the two of you."

Qui-Gon smiled, but it was painful. "The snake was not the real threat — merely a distraction. I did not mean to kill it, but we did what was best under the circumstances. Of course, it was young Harry here who dealt the final blow. Both of the final blows."

"Regardless, thank you," Mr. Weasley said. "I don't know that we'd all be here now if you hadn't intervened."

Qui-Gon and Obi-wan both bowed. "It is our duty as Jedi," Qui-Gon said.

Mr. Weasley gave them a funny look, but didn't linger. He soon moved on after he was sure that the younglings would be okay, though not so soon that he couldn't give his consent for the tests to be done.

"Now I must insist that you stay here," Madam Pomfrey was saying. "You seem just fine for now, but there are a lot of strange things coming together here..."

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," said Ginny.

"You're welcome," Madam Pomfrey replied. She went off to talk to her apprentice, who was taking a deep preparatory breath.

For the tenth time since they'd arrived, he sat down on the floor and prepared to meditate.

"Join me, Obi-wan," he said, closing his eyes and letting go of his physical body. As ever, the concentration of Force energy here was almost overwhelming. It was less so when Obi-wan joined him, but still an incredible experience.

They drifted for an indefinite period before a vision struck them.

Qui-Gon was fighting the Sith again. He rained down increasingly heavy blows, trying to break through his opponent's defense, but the zabrak was too fast. Every one of his attacks was parried and countered with total ease. The combined effort of lightsaber combat and resisting attempts to throw him telekinetically down the ventilation shaft was tiring him too quickly. Poor Obi-wan was assaulting the beam generators of the force field that separated them, but to no avail. The Sith's lunge got him this time. It was a curious thing, to watch yourself die. The experience was liberating, and Qui-Gon realised that the boy, Harry, was the reason why he was still alive. Whatever the Force willed of him, Qui-Gon knew that it centered around Harry.

 _'_ _What must I do?'_

There was no answer, for he already knew. He had known for three weeks. He would train this boy in the ways of the Force.

With this conclusion firm in his mind, he returned to full consciousness to find that significant time had passed while he was gone. Obi-Wan, who had clearly just recovered himself, was giving him a concerned, mournful look. Whether that was for seeing his death, or knowing what his master would soon do, Qui-Gon did not know.

Harry and Ginny were still in bed, Mrs Weasley joining them in having lunch.

"I just wish we could see the others," Harry sighed. Ginny nodded, taking some potato from his plate with nary a hesitation. "Some things never change..."

A slight smirk, quickly concealed, was the only sign that Ginny had heard him.

As the younglings finished eating, the headmaster came in, taking Madam Pomfrey and her assistant into the office to talk. Sharing a look with his padawan, Qui-Gon steeled himself and schooled his features. Whatever his plans or hopes, he knew that he had reached their shatterpoint.

"Harry, how are you feeling this fine afternoon?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"Fine, thank you, professor," said Harry. There were matching, slight frowns on each of the younglings' faces that corresponded to a mild anxiety Qui-Gon felt from them both.

The headmaster walked over to the bed, smiling genially and engaging the younglings in small talk, but Qui-Gon paid that little heed. More concerning to him was the warning he was getting through the Force. Nothing seemed threatening. The conversation was mild. And the only new element in the room...

Too late, he saw the old man's wand sliding into a wrinkled hand.

Already having warped time in anticipation of events to come, Master Jinn got to his feet. His apprentice was there before him though, pushing him out of the way of a spell. It wasn't possible that the old man could have reacted so fast. And yet, blue, silver and red lights streaked past him in stubborn defiance of that.

Just as soon as it had started, it stopped. Obi-Wan was holding the old man in midair, a good five metres from his weapon.

"What the fuck...?" said Ginny.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Mrs Weasley. "Unhand him this instant!"

"He...!" Obi-Wan began. But the woman was already drawing her wand. "Oh for..."

But neither of the Jedi did anything. For before Qui-Gon could so much as twitch, Ginny had her wand aimed at her own mother, while Harry covered the rest of the room.

"Didn't you see him pulling his wand on us, Mum?" said Ginny.

"You dare raise your wand against your mother?" said Mrs Weasley, rage and disbelief written on every inch of her face.

"I dare," said Ginny in wonderment.

"This has happened before," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I... I don't remember. Just fragments. Professor..."

"My boy, listen to me," said Professor Dumbledore. "Your minds are unstable after the bond between you evolved. I am trying to help you."

"No, you're not," said Ginny. Her mother, Qui-Gon realised, was yelling silently, her mouth moving with an absolute lack of sound.

"Everyone frozen," Harry muttered. "The greater good?"

"What did you do?" Ginny thundered.

"These two Jedi, as they call themselves, have clearly been affecting you without my knowledge..." Dumbledore's voice cut out, the professor now apparently suffering from the same ailment as Mrs Weasley.

"Watch him closely," Qui-Gon said.

On Obi-Wan's nod, he advanced on the bed. Harry stared at him with both anger and fear in his eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

Harry nodded. Ginny shook her head.

"Why should we?" said Ginny. The question wasn't directed at him.

"Because I can feel it," said Harry. "He doesn't mean us any harm."

"You didn't feel that with Professor Dumbledore?" said Ginny.

"I..." Harry sighed. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Go on then, Jedi," said Ginny. "What do you want?"

"I'm going to try to restore your memory," said Master Jinn.

"Do it to me first," said Harry.

Ginny nodded. It was to be expected. If this went wrong, Ginny would be able to try to recover the situation.

"Come," said Qui-Gon. "Lie down for me. Flat on the bed, that's it. If you would please give him some room, Ginny?"

As they complied, he knelt to the side of the bed. Psychiatric healing was not his speciality, but he had heard and read about this sort of thing. Or rather, restoring repressed or damaged memories. He wasn't entirely sure what _this_ sort of thing was yet.

"Close your eyes, and try to focus on anything you remember," said Qui-Gon, reaching out with one hand.

The Force flowed around him. He could feel its currents. The energy filled Harry's head, surrounded it, and built like a great storm cloud. The boy's mind was a tempest unto itself, tethered to Ginny's as if by ethereal rope.

Doubt bloomed in Qui-Gon's mind. The headmaster's words about the younglings' minds being unstable played back in his head as he felt a dark presence, sitting almost as if latched to Harry's unconscious. Repressed emotions, perhaps. Qui-Gon was no expert, but the Force did not compel him to act, and he knew to listen to its counsel.

Fear. Anger. Pain. Hallmarks of the dark side surrounded Harry. This was the boy he was going to train — the boy who felt so pure.

"Focus for me, Harry," said Qui-Gon, feeling every eddy in the Force's flow. Looking upon the boy's straining face, he let the floodgates open. "What do you see?"

"I woke up in the hospital wing, but..." Harry grimaced. "This is before I remember waking up. Ron's still unconscious. Ginny is so angry, I..."

"Every detail, Harry," said Qui-Gon. "Remember everything."

That was when something happened that brought a smile to the old Jedi's face. Within and around Harry, the Force began to swell. It was like a balloon being inflated. The pressure built steadily as the boy recited events of several months past... And Harry's eyes began to glow. Qui-Gon had not the time to wonder at the white light pouring from the youngling's eye sockets, for Force energy erupted like a benevolent bomb. Warmth spread through him as the wave broke over him, and he felt Harry, even more so than before, illuminated in the Force like a beacon.

The boy himself had risen from the bed, his limbs thrown out and enveloped in that same light.

Ginny was not so passive. Her wand was now turned on Dumbledore, one flaming hand holding her mother at bay. "You bastard."

Harry gently dropped back to the bed even as Ginny got up, moving to stand next to the bed, where she could keep everyone in her field of view.

"You changed our memories?" Ginny growled. "Was that what you were about to do? Wipe us clean again so you could have us thinking the way you wanted us to?"

"How many?" said Harry, as he sat up, dim lights still rolling off him like flames.

"This can only end badly," said Obi-Wan. "Regardless of what has been done, you would surely face punishment for attacking your elders."

"He went into our heads!" Ginny said, furious tears sliding down her cheeks. "Mine, Harry's, Mum's, Dad's... Everyone! How can we just let that go?"

"Do not forget," said Qui-Gon, the irony not entirely lost on him. "But remember also that there is a world outside these walls, and it does not yet know what you know."

Ginny deflated slightly at that. "I know."

A few tense moments passed, but it soon became clear that the danger had passed.

"Would you be able to help restore everyone's memories?" said Harry.

"I shall certainly do my best," said Master Jinn, bowing.

An angry young man Harry might be, but he was not unreasonable or without self control. Qui-Gon might make a Jedi out of him yet.

"Let's start with Mum."

* * *

Harry was later told (by Fred and George) that the slap their mother gave Albus Dumbledore could be heard from the lake. It certainly left a mark. With her wand taken from her, Mrs Weasley used everything at her disposal to punish the headmaster. All that surprised Harry was that by the end of the day, there was still an Albus Dumbledore left to see that mark in the mirror. But even as people turned up, protested, remembered and raged, Harry found nothing left within him but an overwhelming sense of purpose. There wasn't even a shred of anger left. He knew who his enemies were, and he was going to work to best them.

Finally, Professor McGonagall entered the room, ushered in by a grim-looking Mr. Weasley. Harry was sure that Madam Pomfrey would have gone to get her if the school nurse wasn't sitting in the corner of the room in shock. "What is the meaning of this? Albus?"

Her wand was taken from her the moment it left her robes. Five minutes later, she was scrambling for it for entirely different reasons. The look of anguish on Professor McGonagall's face was something that would stay with Harry for a long time. But after a minute of angrily fighting invisible shackles, she composed herself and turned away from Dumbledore, continuing as though he were not even present.

"I have a duty of care to my students," said Professor McGonagall. "Until today, I was _proud_ of myself... for all the Gryffindors who have thrived at Hogwarts... all those that I have taught. But I have failed, utterly, to protect you, from beginning to end."

Neville, who was standing next to Harry at the bedside, moved as if to say something, but held his tongue. Harry was just glad of Professor McGonagall's discretion with regards his past. His accepting it didn't mean he wanted these Jedi to know.

"Your friends lying petrified in this infirmary are further evidence of my failure," she said. "I will understand if you no longer trust me, but I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Professor, we're their parents," Mrs Weasley sobbed. Harry turned around, shocked, to see that his previously incensed mother had collapsed into quiet, distraught tears. Fred and George moved to her side in a heartbeat.

"You haven't failed any more than we have," said Mr. Weasley, trying to comfort his wife as best he could. "You trusted Dumbledore. We all did. The failure would be to allow him to hoodwink us again."

"Constant vigilance," said Professor McGonagall. Perhaps it was some private joke, for the adults present smiled, if only briefly.

"We... Thank you, professor," said Ginny.

"It isn't you we've lost trust in," said Neville.

"We're only mad at one person in this room," said Fred.

There was a long pause. One by one, everyone turned to look at the headmaster, who Obi-Wan was still dutifully keeping aloft.

"So," said Harry, "what happens now?"

There was only disappointment in Professor Dumbledore's eyes. It galled Harry and Ginny that the old man might think they should be ashamed of themselves for the day's events, but he held Ginny back. His question had not been rhetorical. Everyone present, with the possible exception of the aliens, knew how difficult the situation was.

Dumbledore was more than a famous, popular figure. He was a powerful political leader in Europe as well as the UK. People all over the world listened to what he had to say. Opposing him in any way could only end badly for them. And even if they did prove what he had done, many would accept it and move on with their lives. Dumbledore rescued the world from Grindelwald. He must have his reasons.

"I have half a mind to pull you all out of Hogwarts," said Mr. Weasley. A statement which would have provoked mutiny before now elicited only hesitant looks. "But then we would need to leave the country to be safe from the good headmaster's influence. I couldn't do that to the family. But at the same time, I cannot risk our safety..."

Mr. Weasley paused for a moment, and the only sounds in their warded off corner of the hospital wing were the erratic, quiet sniffles from his wife. Seconds passed, and Mr. Weasley looked up at Professor Dumbledore, a daring look in his eyes. It was a side to his father that Harry had not yet seen.

"We will carry on as normal," said Mr. Weasley. "Whatever measures can be taken to help us all defend ourselves will be taken, and we will sleep with one eye open. He has lost his biggest weapon — our trust."

"Indeed," said Professor McGonagall.

"A pity that you all feel this way," said Professor Dumbledore. "A pity that it came to this at all."

"One day we might be ready to think about the why of all this, Dumbledore," said Professor McGonagall. "Not today."

"I think we must ask you to leave," said Madam Pomfrey.

Obi-Wan set the headmaster back on his feet, returning his wand to him. For a moment, Harry tensed. That half second stretched out immeasurably in his head as he waited for a retaliation. Ginny held her energy just beneath the surface, ready to burst forth in a firestorm. But Dumbledore didn't so much as twitch. The wand went inside his robes, and he left the hospital wing without another word.


	43. 43 - The Council

Harry woke up fully alert, almost on edge. Today was the day he was getting released from the hospital wing. That meant he was also free to try and get the Jedi back home. The truth of it was that he had no idea how he had done it in the first place, if indeed he was responsible. And yet, somehow, he just knew he could do it.

"That's the spirit," Ginny said sleepily, smirking.

Poking her nose just to see her squirm, Harry slid out of bed, landing softly on the cold stone floor. The first light of day was just now creeping down the far wall. He padded around to Ginny's end of the makeshift double bed and shook her by the shoulders.

"Get your lazy arse out of bed," said Harry.

Raising herself onto her elbows, Ginny blew the hair out of her face to give Harry the full force of her glare. "I'm going to murder you, Harry Potter. Slowly."

"Well, in the meantime, come and have breakfast," said Harry, grinning. "I know you're just as hungry as me."

Ginny muttered a few choice swear words, but soon stumbled out of bed herself. Harry had already slipped out of the hospital wing. It was a comforting thing to retread the same old secret passages after so long drifting in unconsciousness. They didn't run into anyone, it being too early for most to have left the comfort of their beds. But Harry had a mission, and he wasn't keen on confronting the whole school at once after yet another major incident.

 ** _'_** ** _No smile this morning,'_** said Harry.

The headmaster was watching him with a measured, thoughtful sort of look.

 ** _'_** ** _Some day he is going to get what's coming to him,'_** Ginny said, sliding onto the Gryffindor bench.

 ** _'_** ** _Yeah,'_** Harry agreed. **_'He is.'_**

Harry tore through his breakfast with a voracity that continued to amuse Ginny. Her own appetite had increased since the events of the Chamber, but not quite as much as Harry's. After two plates of bacon, eggs and sausages, an omelette and some beans on toast found their way to his stomach, Harry sighed with approval, scanned the table, and began to peel a banana.

Ginny had barely opened her mouth when Harry cut across her. "Not a word."

She smirked at him, but acquiesced. He'd heard the parallels she was drawing with Ron anyway.

They escaped the Great Hall just as the number of students started to pick up. A murmur rose among the crowd they passed, and a few people even called out. Ginny gave a brief wave, but they hurried on back to the infirmary, where they knew the Jedi would be waiting. They found more than just the Jedi.

"Professor Dumbledore believed you would need this," said Madam Pomfrey. On the table she indicated lay the Sword of Gryffindor, gleaming in the golden sunlight.

"I feel like I'm taking the weapon with me to a murder trial," said Harry, looking at the blade with some trepidation.

"No one will be accusing you of murder," said Master Jinn. "If you had not done what you did, you would not be standing here today."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Master Jinn carried on, "Whether you knew it or not at the time does not change that. The Force guided your hand in this."

This did not alleviate the weight upon Harry's heart, but he took up the blade all the same. "So when do we go?"

* * *

Naboo was a truly beautiful planet — a garden world unspoiled by engines of industry. Even its capital city of Theed was a glistening silver metropolis, merely an island of idyllic settlement in the vast ocean of green. Harry had been less able to appreciate its beauty in the midst of its blockade, but free as it now was, Harry drank in the sights.

"A pity we missed the celebrations," said Master Jinn. "Supposedly it was truly historic — the beginning of diplomatic relations between the two civilisations of this world."

"It's difficult to believe that a place like this could know conflict," said Ginny.

"The most beautiful things incite the bloodiest confrontations," said the Jedi.

They were led higher through the palace by a young lieutenant of the guard, Typho. Harry itched to ask the man what had happened to his eye, which was locked behind some form of metal guard cap. Every time he opened his mouth, however, Ginny would discretely pinch his hand. By the time they reached the Queen's audience chamber, Harry was quite ready to attempt a Force wedgie.

The space age doors slid open to reveal a moderately large hall. And sitting upon a throne at the far end, surrounded by handmaidens and attendants was a heavily made up but undeniably beautiful woman.

"Stop when I stop," muttered the lieutenant, leading them in. "And kneel when I kneel."

Apart from the guardsmen, everyone seemed to be wearing some form of ceremonial clothing. Robes were commonplace, though they were not the simple things Harry was used to. No, he was certainly in a royal court, though it was like none he had ever imagined.

Before long, they stood before Queen Amidala herself, who looked at them dispassionately for a moment before looking up at the Jedi.

"Master Jedi!" she said, a note of surprise colouring her features.

 ** _'_** ** _I'm surprised her face can move at all under all that,'_** said Ginny.

Harry admonished her lightly, bending his knee with the guard.

"Your highness," said the Jedi, also kneeling.

Harry noted with a degree of curiosity that Obi-Wan's eyes flicked to one of the handmaidens as he said this. With greater curiosity, Harry noted that he had realised this without having looked around to see Obi-Wan's face.

"My friends, I had to see with my own eyes that it was truly you," said the Queen. "You have been presumed dead for some time."

Master Jinn smiled lightly. "That is to be expected, I suppose. We did disappear in combat with a Sith assassin, and for quite some time. But did you not have security footage?"

"You were in a nuclear facility," said the Queen drily. "The fact remains that you have been gone for three standard months."

Harry felt his jaw drop. If Naboo months were similar to Earth months, something had gone very wrong.

"This is very interesting," said Master Jinn. Unlike his apprentice, he seemed rather amused at the news. "Your highness, I hope that matters ran a smooth course after we left."

"Indeed," she nodded. "I must thank you for your part in it. Peace flourishes, the occupying force ousted, and the Trade Federation has almost completely escaped punishment."

"Unfortunately, your highness, money talks," said Master Jinn. "I am glad to hear that Naboo has emerged largely unscathed. What of the boy, Anakin Skywalker?"

"Ah, one of the less peaceful results of this conflict," said the Queen. "Please, be at ease."

Harry stood with the others, keeping his eyes aimed low. Anakin Skywalker. His ears hadn't been playing tricks on him. If he was truly in the room with Obi-Wan Kenobi, that boy would grow up to be one of the most famous villains never to walk the Earth...

"The Jedi High Council would not take the boy," the Queen said, and Harry could not be sure if she was amused. "As such, he has been enjoying our hospitality as my ward. I suppose you would not have heard, but he almost single-handedly defeated the Trade Federation army with a daring space manoeuvre."

"Surprise upon surprise," said Kenobi.

"Indeed," the Queen sighed. "The boy has been developing his piloting skills, but little else according to his tutors. Only Padme can keep him to heel."

The Jedi made noncommittal noises, though Harry felt Obi-Wan was a little more derogatory.

"Am I to presume that you are taking our young hero off our hands?" the Queen asked blandly.

"You are," Master Jinn smiled. "If you will only provide transport for us and the young Sith slayer here, we will be well on our way."

Queen Amidala stood. "What exactly are you saying, Master Jedi?"

"What I am saying is that this boy, Harry Potter, single-handedly slew the assassin we engaged here in your palace," said Qui-Gon. "With a sword."

The Queen's eyebrows rose. "This is true, Mr. Potter?"

"Every word, your highness," said Harry, looking up briefly. "I have brought the sword. Your guardsman is holding it for me."

With a gesture, the Queen summoned Lieutenant Typho, and she took the sword. Its blade gleamed, utterly free of imperfection.

"Gryffindor," said Queen Amidala. "A patron of yours?"

"The founder of my house, your majesty," said Harry, a warm feeling suffusing his chest.

"Kneel," she commanded.

Harry hastened to comply, unsure what exactly he had done wrong. It did not help that Ginny was laughing at him.

"Do you swear always to defend the poor and the helpless?" said the Queen.

"I do," said Harry, frowning in confusion. Was this some form of test?

"Do you swear always to be charitable to those less fortunate than yourself?" the Queen said, sword still aimed at the floor.

"I do, your majesty," said Harry. Why was everyone oohing and aahing so much? Had he not left that at Hogwarts?

"Do you swear always to be honest and true, not succumbing to fear or to cowardice?"

"I do," said Harry.

He couldn't deny a hint of fear as the sword was laid next to his neck. But there was no sense of danger. Even Ginny was quiet now, watching in contemplation.

"From this day onward, you shall be known to the Naboo as Sir Harry Potter, Defender of the Realm," said Queen Amidala, passing the sword to the other side of his neck. "May you leave peace and prosperity in your wake, and stand as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times."

Harry stared at the hem of the woman's robes. " _Th_ -thank you, your majesty."

Harry kicked himself as his voice broke. If only it hadn't been sprung on him! **_'Shut up, Ginny.'_**

The sword withdrew, and Queen Amidala offered him her hand. Taking it in his, Harry gently kissed the knuckles. He didn't know much about knighting ceremonies, but it seemed appropriate... right up until he heard the Queen's tinkling laughter.

"I mean for you to stand, Sir Potter, but I am flattered by the gesture."

His face burning, Harry stood with his head bowed, seeing Gryffindor's Sword offered to him upon the Queen's open hands.

"Take your weapon, Sir Potter," she said. "May it serve you well on your journeys."

"Thank you, your majesty," said Harry, taking the sword gingerly and replacing it in the scabbard Dumbledore had provided. It was not quite as ornate as the blade itself, but it too was silver, and always shone as though freshly polished.

One delicate finger took him under the chin, and as Harry looked up, he saw the first genuine smile on the young Queen's face. "You are a knight now, sir. You need not stare at your shoes."

Harry realised after a moment that he was gaping. "Yes, your majesty. I am at your disposal."

The Queen's smile turned slightly mischievous before she schooled her features back into that regal mask. "Excellent. I have no need of you today, Sir Harry Potter. But you should all stay this evening and explain properly what came to pass in the bowels of our palace."

Harry bowed, noticing only then that Ginny seemed a little sulky. Nudging her and grinning, Harry felt better to elicit a conspiratorial smile from her.

"Padme will show you around the castle," said Queen Amidala. "I have matters of state to attend to, but I will expect you all at dinner."

Lieutenant Typho led them from the hall, and Harry found that his head was lodged firmly in the clouds. He had never dreamed he might one day be a real knight. But his attentions were soon drawn back to reality as Master Jinn quietly addressed the girl, Padme.

"Your majesty," he said discretely, not even looking at the handmaiden.

Harry stared. Had the Queen been a decoy? A fake?

Ginny snorted at his expression, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Master Jinn," said the girl. "I assume you want to report to your council as quickly as possible."

"Yes," said Master Jinn. "Being dead could prove quite the inconvenience on Core Worlds."

"I can imagine," Padme smiled, pressing a fairly high number on the lift panel as they all squeezed in. "I'm not sure how Anakin would take it if the Jedi reject him outright."

"Not wonderfully well, I imagine," said Master Jinn. "Thankfully, he doesn't need to worry about it. I will see him trained."

"He's a sweet boy," Padme sighed. "He might make a good Jedi."

The lift doors opened to reveal a sandy-haired boy a little younger than Harry staring open mouthed at them.

"I knew you couldn't be dead," said Anakin Skywalker. "I knew it."

As one, Harry and Ginny calculated what they knew of the boy. Of what he was destined to become. The imposing figure of Darth Vader loomed large in their memories. But what were they to do? Kill the child? If they did, what would happen instead? If some other, greater evil replaced him, where would this world be without the children of Anakin Skywalker?

Just like that, the opportunity passed.

"Ani, why aren't you with Doctor Arneé?" said Padme sternly, guiding him down the corridor.

"I finished the work she set me," Anakin protested. "And I felt something, like I should be here."

"Curious how you never have the feeling that you should be in class," said Padme, hiding a smile.

"I know all about electronics," said Anakin, in a distinctly eight year old voice.

 ** _'_** ** _I find your lack of faith disturbing,'_** Harry mocked.

Ginny giggled at him, shaking her head. **_'Hard to imagine...'_**

"Are you not taking me back to Dr Arneé?" said Anakin, confused.

"The Jedi are taking you back to Coruscant, Ani," said Padme. "Remember?"

"The Jedi don't want me," said Anakin. "They think I'm too old."

Harry and Ginny frowned at each other. Yoda had said something about Luke Skywalker being too old for Jedi training, they remembered, but he had been almost a man grown. Anakin could not be ten years of age.

"You will be trained, Anakin," said Qui-Gon Jinn. "I will keep that promise."

Ginny gave Harry a sad smile at that. It had been one of their mother's conditions. For while Mrs Weasley saw the importance of Harry gaining a wider variety of defensive skills after the sheer amount of time Voldemort had kept him in hospital over the previous two years and the newly revealed threat of their own headmaster, she was not happy to lose both of her youngest to 'some romp through the stars'. Thus, when Master Jinn's blood tests showed Harry to have rather a great strength in the Force where Ginny seemed barely even to exist, Mrs Weasley had taken quite the sigh of relief. Ginny would be allowed to travel with Harry. She would be his comfort and his crutch, safe from the headmaster, while their parents watched the situation at Hogwarts. And when the Council reached a decision on Harry Potter's fate, she would come straight home.

"Where did you go?" said Anakin.

Harry felt like a knife had been driven into his chest, that mere seconds ago he had been considering killing this child. Anakin was no Tom Riddle. This boy was about as malevolent as a bunny rabbit. What could possibly have changed?

* * *

Harry found that becoming a knight had failed to make him any surer of himself. There were certainly a thousand protocols that he was brazenly flouting as he entered the royal dining chamber, but rather than feel assured that he wasn't expected to know them, he felt himself becoming cowed by the weight of it.

 ** _'_** ** _Come on, Harry,'_** said Ginny. **_'It's only dinner with the queen of a planet. What could possibly go wrong?'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Thanks Ginny, big help,'_** Harry muttered. But he found an involuntary smile twitching his lips and suddenly it was that much easier to stand up straight.

"Welcome, my friends," said the queen.

Padme having excused herself from their group after giving a tour of the castle, Harry looked closely at the queen's face. They had indeed switched places. It was subtle, and the handmaidens had clearly been chosen at least partly for a resemblance to the queen, but it was there in the cheekbones, the jawline and the fullness of the lips if you were looking for it. The true queen might have been the youngest of the group.

Still following Typho's lead, Harry stopped about five paces from the table. He tried to stop, at any rate. Ginny discretely stomped on his toe, and he stumbled forwards in front of the Queen, her handmaidens, her guards and the whole party. Holding in a curse, Harry allowed himself to fall to one knee, slamming a fist to his heart and bowing his head.

"Your highness," said Harry, resolving to find some new and creative revenge. Ginny appeared to be whistling.

"You may rise, Sir Potter," said Queen Amidala.

Harry wondered if Queen Elizabeth had ever considered a holographic band for light entertainment. The soft jazz music seemed incredibly well reproduced — Harry would never have realised that it was not a live band if he had not seen the holographic projectors. Ginny was drinking in everything she saw and heard. Throughout the day it had amused Harry to listen to her mind frantically scramble to log and compare all the not-quite-familiar things that they encountered. He had drawn the parallel with Hermione, but Ginny chose to ignore the comment.

In contrast, Harry could have done with a little bit less in the way of new experiences. As he was led to his seat at the Queen's right hand, he noticed that one of the options for a starter dish seemed to still be moving.

Harry stood for a clear thirty seconds, waiting, while the Queen kept them standing. It was only when he was forced to take a sharp inhalation that he realised that nerves had driven him to holding his breath. And even without a Jedi's insight he could see the Queen smirk.

As they began to eat, Queen Amidala attempted small talk about the state of the galaxy. She had barely mentioned the word Coruscant when Harry realised he was well out of his depth. If the Queen did not already have all the clues she needed, his involuntary, desperate glance towards Master Jinn surely tipped the balance.

"So tell me, Sir Potter," said Queen Amidala. "Where do you hail from, that you do not recognise the seat of galactic government?"

"My planet is called Earth," said Harry. "Ginevra and I are both from there."

Ginevra put her heel on his ankle and pushed until Harry's grin felt drawn on with a knife.

 ** _'_** ** _Totally worth it.'_**

Meanwhile, Ginny continued to discuss magic with Obi-Wan Kenobi as though nothing at all had changed.

"Earth?" said the Queen. She still sounded impassive, but Harry could feel her interest growing. "Perhaps it is not on any of the major trade routes."

"Or _any_ of the trade routes, your highness," said Harry.

Queen Amidala stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he had dared to tease her.

 ** _'_** ** _Five points to Gryffindor,'_** Ginny smirked, continuing her idle chatter with Kenobi.

"And the people of this Earth are practitioners of the magic your companion speaks of?" Queen Amidala asked.

Ginny, to her credit, did not glance around, though Harry could feel her surprise.

"Some of us, yes," said Harry. "Master Jinn says many people discovering the Force call it magic."

"Hmm," said Queen Amidala. Somehow, Harry felt that she knew there was more. They shared a slight smile. "Galactic government does not take kindly to mysteries, and if you wish to conduct business coreward of Eriadu you will encounter the Republic in some way."

"Are we already coreward of Eriadu, your highness?" said Harry.

Queen Amidala smiled. "We need to have a chat with the good Jedi master before you leave."

The Queen went on to tell him of her planet and its place in the galaxy at large. Master Jinn had spoken briefly of the Galactic Republic, but neither Harry nor any of his friends had pressed the issue for fear of accidentally telling the Jedi that his prized democracy was doomed. Still, Harry was taken to believe that the Jedi suspected that they were withholding information. It was in the glances, the slight frowns whenever they caught someone staring at Kenobi...

Obi-Wan Kenobi was far, far younger than the version Harry had seen. He had a definite handsomeness to his face, and a powerful, lean build that spoke of hard work and thorough physical conditioning. It might have brought a pang of jealousy to his heart to see Ginny in such rapturous conversation with the padawan, but he knew better. He only smiled at the slight flush to her cheeks, bringing her freckles into relief as she spoke of the variety of creatures to be found in Europe.

Over the next fifty minutes, Harry learned of Coruscant, the city-planet from which the Republic governed, the shipyards of Corellia and Kuat, and the trade routes that connected this small planet of Naboo to those Core Worlds and made it significant.

"There are hundreds of thousands of worlds in the Republic," said the Queen, standing with Harry, Ginny and the Jedi in a nigh-empty dining chamber. "Nobody will bat an eye at not recognising your homeworld. But should an official be unable to trace you, you may be presumed a fugitive, or worse."

"It is true," said Master Jinn, frowning. "My intention is to get Harry directly to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, as his true home would become largely irrelevant if he were inducted to the order."

"What do you mean?" said Ginny.

"The records could list his origin as the temple itself," said the Jedi Master. "A cleaner, neater solution by far."

"Which rests solely on the Jedi High Council accepting a boy significantly older and more mature than Anakin Skywalker," said Obi-Wan.

 ** _'_** **Mature...** ** _'_** Ginny snickered.

Harry responded by reaching out with his feelings, using his hazy memories of the Star Wars movies as an instruction manual. The Jedi glanced almost imperceptibly in his direction as the only indication that they had noticed, but left him to his devices.

"It is true that they may prove hesitant," said Master Jinn. "But an individual of Harry's power, with his set of abilities, would demand training. It would be too dangerous to risk him facing the lure of the dark side alone."

In the meantime, Harry decided that he was ready, and began to pull. At first there was no reaction. Moments later, Ginny's eyes widened, and she glanced incredulously over at Harry. He kept his eyes firmly on the Queen and Master Jinn. However, it could not escape her notice that his fingers were forming a definite hook. Turning slightly panicked eyes back to the adults, Ginny turned rather red and tried to subtly fix the Force wedgie, but she had no chance.

"Yes," said Obi-Wan. "The dark side."

The Queen's eyes slid over Ginny, and she seemed to turn redder still. "And if they should reject him?"

"I will think of something," said the Jedi Master. "Harry, know that no matter what happens, I will offer you any help that I can."

"Thank you, Master Jinn," said Harry, giving a final tug that made Ginny squeak under her breath. "I appreciate it."

* * *

Saying goodbye to Naboo was not difficult after the brief stay, but Harry was sure he would miss the temperate garden world and the measured grandeur of its palace. They walked now through its gleaming halls, open to the city and the vast ocean beyond. Unlike Hogwarts, Theed Palace seemed busy in spite of its scale, with nary a room to waste for someone's meeting or project. The people had a fervour to them. Still, none hesitated to bow as their Queen passed, before returning in earnest to whatever occupied them. Closing his eyes, Harry felt the whole building _thrumming_ with life.

Ginny was thrumming with more than life as she walked beside him. Pulling her tight to his side, Harry grinned at her.

"Not to worry," said Harry. Gesturing grandly into the distance, Harry gave her a little shake. "There's a whole galaxy out there for me to show you, fair maiden."

"Oh good sir," said Ginny. "I don't know, I've never been gone far from my family's farm."

"Except Diagon Alley," said Harry.

"Yes, there is that..." said Ginny.

"And Hogwarts."

"And Hogwarts."

"Romania."

"But isn't space just so... so... dangerous?" Ginny said tremulously.

"Dragons," said Harry. "Romania had dragons."

Ginny pouted at him before shoving him unceremoniously away. "Well phooey, mister, maybe I don't need a big, strong man to protect me."

"Could've fooled me," Harry smirked.

Wands were drawn as one being, one movement in perfect synchrony.

" _Orchideous_ ," said Harry.

Ginny took the flowers from mid-air, sniffed airily and walked on ahead. Reaching out, Harry made a gesture as though grabbing at something intangible between thumb and forefinger. Ginny turned, her face a picture of shock if only she were not trying so hard not to laugh.

"Mr. Potter!" Ginny said.

Harry kept walking after the Jedi. "Alright, it'll be chocolate next time."

Danger.

Harry stepped idly to the side, catching the little burst of energy in his left hand. Raising it for inspection, Harry found a sizzling yellow ball. He turned on the spot and blew the charm back towards her in a little flurry of yellow sparks. His heart had never yet felt so light.

Ginny just grinned and shook her head at him, the Queen's handmaidens passing her by. Turning his attention to them, Harry noted that the queen-duty rotation had continued, and the decoy was currently acting as Her Royal Highness. Padme's lip quirked as he identified her. On reaching Harry, she leaned in slightly.

"Dormé plays her part well, does she not?" Padme murmured.

"As do you, your highness," said Harry.

"Astute," she said. "The best of luck, Sir Potter. It is a dangerous galaxy, and I wish to see you on Naboo again, someday."

"I will not disappoint you, your highness," said Harry.

He might have said something else, but his breath was momentarily stolen from him.

The ship that awaited them was a sleek, beautiful thing. It might have been Italian, in the year 3000. Exhaust drives that fit almost seamlessly to the smooth lines of its body gently breathed a waft of blue light as the engines idled. A space ship. It was reminiscent of the designs he had seen as he approached the planet amid its siege. Chrome plating shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun as a boarding ramp smoothly lowered.

"The previous monarch's vessel," said Padme. "The crew will take you as far as Coruscant, but then they must return."

"We understand," said Master Jinn. "You and the Queen have our utmost gratitude."

"The pleasure is all ours," Padme smiled.

Kneeling down, she gave Anakin a warm, fond goodbye. The boy suddenly seemed less eager to leave when he realised that she would not be coming with them.

Padme smiled slightly. "Until next time, Sir Potter."

Harry gritted his teeth slightly as he smiled and nodded in return. Now that the shock had passed, he couldn't help but feel disingenuous in accepting such an honour.

As they climbed aboard the starship, Ginny delivered a solid kick to his shin.

"Ow!" said Harry. "Jesus, Ginny, what?"

"You've been made a bloody knight," said Ginny flatly. "A knight at a royal court. For saving a planet's government from an assassin. I'm going to keep kicking you until you stop moping."

As if to prove her point, she kicked him in the ankle. Or she would have, had Harry not caught her foot.

"Maybe you haven't heard," said Harry. "They call me the youngest Seeker in a century."

"They call you many things, _Sir_ Potter," Ginny grinned. " _Hey!_ "

"It's two jumps to Coruscant," said the pilot. "An overnight journey."

"Thank you, Mister?" said Master Jinn.

"Geraaten, Master Jedi," said the pilot, shaking the Jedi Master's hand. "Andrin Geraaten."

Harry stared out of the window as the ship pulled almost silently out of dock. Such a picturesque vista he did not think he had ever seen. Maybe he could have his Jedi training here...

* * *

Harry woke up well rested on the second day of their journey. Ginny was still miles away in the bunk opposite, a few strands of her fiery hair fluttering rhythmically with her breathing.

Stretching as he slipped out of bed, Harry dressed quickly and hurried out into the corridor, eager to prove to himself exactly where he was. Outside the transparisteel windows, stars stretched out like brilliant gashes in the sky, testament to the bending of relativity around them.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Harry had spent the majority of his time _gawking_ at this particular man. However, if he was truly to meet Master Yoda soon, perhaps now was the time to get comfortable.

"Yes," Harry admitted readily. "Do you fly much?"

"It is difficult to avoid as a Jedi Knight, even in training," Obi-Wan shrugged. "I understand you are mainly limited to atmosphere at home."

Harry nodded. "Do you think the pilot would show me what it's like?"

"Not you as well," Obi-Wan sighed good-naturedly. "I don't see why not."

Grinning, Harry was ready to race off to the cockpit when he remembered something that had been bothering both him and Ginny.

"Mister Kenobi..." Harry said. "What's this about Anakin being too old?"

A more tired sigh this time.

"Jedi do not train adults," said Kenobi. "Nor do we train youths. Younglings are taken in infancy for Jedi training to begin properly."

"You take them from their families?" said Harry, horrified.

"Yes," said Obi-Wan. "It is a necessary measure to begin the training this early."

"And you let them visit on weekends?" Harry asked. "For holidays?"

Somehow, he knew the answer before he had even asked.

"No," said Kenobi, staring out at the stars. "That would rather defeat the purpose."

Harry swallowed his indignation. No matter how he disagreed, the Jedi clearly believed in whatever he was saying, and unlike Dumbledore could most likely be trusted to speak candidly about it.

"People form emotional attachments to things, to people, as they grow up," said Kenobi. "This is especially true of family."

"And Jedi can't deal with that?" said Harry.

"It is an added problem we do not need," said Obi-Wan patiently. "We are arbiters, diplomats, peacekeepers... If we were emotionally bound up with someone it would be a liability to our judgement and our neutrality."

"That would be your failing as a Jedi," said Harry. "To tear families apart is your failing as a person."

"We do not tear anybody apart," said Obi-Wan, shocked. "Parents volunteer their children."

"And the ones who don't?" said Harry, annoyed at the idea that anyone could voluntarily give away their own flesh and blood.

"Many do not, I grant you," said Kenobi. "But it is a great honour to become a Jedi, and parents do not wish to deny their children such an opportunity."

"It's a choice you force on them," Harry pointed out.

"True," Obi-Wan conceded. "But such is life."

For a moment, Harry stared out through the window, digesting this information. It seemed highly unlikely that he would even want to be a Jedi. Clearly this had been what had helped to sell Mrs Weasley on letting Harry come to Coruscant, not that she had had a great deal of choice in the matter.

"Is it truly worth it?" said Harry. "Have you cured the problem of evil by trying to turn your knights into heartless robots?"

Kenobi gave him a sharp look. "That is not..."

Harry continued to look him in the eye.

"Perhaps it seems that way to you," said Kenobi. "But there are certainly fewer problems, yes."

"Is 'fewer problems' worth it?" said Harry.

"Fewer problems equates to trade disputes successfully resolved, thousands of lives saved and the survival of our order," said Kenobi.

"Maybe," said Harry. "Or maybe it has simply hidden the evil-leaning Jedi from your view."

"Hmm," said Kenobi. "Only for four millenia have we done it this way… But after twenty-five thousand years the wisest of Jedi have come up with nothing better."

 _'_ _Well maybe that's why you lose.'_

Harry left Obi-Wan cordially, a little less star-struck by the glamour of the Jedi Order. Flying was a far easier and less emotionally harrowing discipline.

* * *

On the final approach to Coruscant, Harry and Ginny were having the time of their life in the cockpit. Mr. Geraaten was devoted to his job and seemed to thoroughly enjoy teaching them about the workings of a starship.

"Where's your friend, anyway?" said the pilot. "He was mighty keen just like you but I haven't seen a hint of him today."

"Master Jinn is tutoring him," Ginny shrugged.

"Oh," said Geraaten. "Ah well, he's seen this bit already. Dropping out of light speed in 5... 3. 2. 1."

The streaks of brilliant white collapsed back into stars, and ahead of them one more dazzling than all the rest exploded into view, dominating the starscape.

"Welcome," the pilot smiled, "to Coruscant."

They stared, mouths agape, at the beating heart of the galaxy. A planet that never slept. Space stations surrounded it from every angle, while a veritable swarm of ships hung around the planet like specks of dust in the light of a cosmic window.

"Coruscant Security Station Esk-159 to Naboo transport vessel, state your business and destination."

"Hi control," said Mr. Geraaten. "Civilian transport, and two Jedi on board. We're headed for the Jedi temple."

"Head on through, transport," said the controller. "Details should be coming through now."

Harry and Ginny both watched, wide-eyed, as they passed by the little space station packed with men and women of various species with headsets and tired faces.

"If we were carrying any controlled materials that we hadn't declared," said the pilot, "munitions, most drugs, slaving equipment… Their little alarm would go off and we'd have a couple of fighters on our tail before you could wet your trousers."

Ginny snorted. "I don't know, Harry could probably beat them to it — _hey!_ "

Ginny tried to grab him with a Levitation Charm, but Harry, single-minded in his purpose, simply shrugged it off and flung her over his shoulder.

"That's new," she muttered, before squealing as he drove his fingers mercilessly into her side. "No! Wait! Stop! Ahhaha! _Stop_ it! Nooooo!"

"Beg for mercy!" Harry laughed. "Muahahahahaha!"

Master Jinn watched, unnoticed, from the doorway. A contemplative smile graced his lips as he watched the children, the ship's crew working in a state of quiet amusement and mild concern. By the time Harry was done, the Jedi Master was gone. But what Harry did see almost made him drop his girlfriend flat on her bottom.

The fiery aura of re-entry faded away to reveal a sci-fi metropolis, the likes of which Harry had never dreamed, stretching to every horizon. Skylanes choked on thousands of flying cars moving at speeds that would make his Nimbus shake with envy. And in the light of the Coruscanti sun, every impossibly tall building was a brilliant, shining beacon of glass and metal.

"How...?" said Harry, his eyes itching.

"It's incredible," said Ginny, earning the curiosity of the copilot for apparently commenting on the small of Harry's back.

The woman was distracted by the communications terminal, however.

"We are reading you, Jedi Tower," she said.

The reminder of the purpose of their visit broke the spell on the young sorcerers. Harry frowned as he settled Ginny back onto her feet. In triggering his memory, the conversation with Kenobi had been brought to the surface.

"Do you think they remember their parents?" said Ginny.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure which would be worse."

* * *

Coruscant was more than simply grand. Its crisp blue skies were filled with neat columns of air traffic, amongst whom few could possibly fathom the sense of wonder in the two young sorcerers. It was in one of those airspeeders that Harry and Ginny now sat, with their Jedi escort and the other young Force-sensitive, Anakin Skywalker.

Perhaps it had been the knowledge of what this boy would become, but Harry and Ginny had found themselves keeping their distance from him. The young Anakin was far more interested in the vehicles than the people who occupied them, regardless. Perhaps he would choose to turn himself into the cyborg Vader.

Their speeder climbed to what at first seemed a low sky lane. It seemed that way until Harry looked down.

"More than five thousand stories deep," said Obi-Wan. "All the way around the planet."

"I'll do my best not to fall," said Harry.

"See that you don't," Kenobi sighed.

"How many people live here?" said Ginny, peering over the side at the impenetrable dark between the monumental buildings below.

"Officially, four quadrillion," said Obi-Wan. "Unofficially, between birth records and immigration data, there's surely more than double that. But the bowels of this planet are derelict and lawless beyond the government's desire to intervene."

That titbit was more than enough to occupy their thoughts as they neared the temple building. It was not hard to identify it, being starkly unique with its five central spires and giant Jedi statues guarding the entrance, even looking past the fact that it stood head and shoulders above anything for miles around. It was only as they came close that the sheer scale of the building resolved itself. Noting that the little specks on the detailing were actually people on walkways and that the landing pad was already party to several shuttles and transports, boggled their minds utterly.

They were still trying to grasp the idea of quadrillions of people, or what even one of these infinite number of buildings would look like on English soil, as they were led up the walkway towards the temple entrance. The statues they had seen from the airspeeder weren't simply large. They towered overhead like warriors against the clouds themselves, each lightsaber blade long enough to cross a Quidditch pitch.

The inside of the temple was every bit as vast, with thousands of figures in Jedi robes parleying or walking through the halls. Harry tried to keep his face neutral as internally he began freaking out at the sheer variety of species, the number of Jedi Knights he was passing. Barely a one of them looked in his direction, but a few did look away from their own business to note their passing. Their attentions were directed more towards Anakin, the shining nexus of Force energy that he was. It was nice to be a secondary attraction for once.

A 'turbolift' propelled them up to the uppermost levels of the temple. There were so many floors that the lift couldn't even make do with a traditional control panel. The floor number had to be typed in on a digital screen. But the turbolift certainly made short work of the distance. Their only warning was a sharp 'brace yourself' from Master Jinn before Harry felt his stomach drop to somewhere around his knees.

He and Ginny left the turbolift taking slow, measured breaths to make sure they didn't dislodge any of their now precariously placed internal organs. This lasted for roughly eight seconds before they turned matching grins on each other.

Business was business, however, and once they reached the High Council's meeting chamber, they drew to a final stop. The metal doors slid open with a hiss-whoosh. Beyond, Harry saw a broken ring of seats occupied by a variety of species. In the centre was Jedi Master Yoda.

"Wait here," Master Jinn said.

The three children were left to stand in the corridor as their Jedi friends went inside.

"Finally returned to us, you have," said Yoda.

"Masters," said Master Jinn, bowing.

The doors snapped shut.

"Well, this has been interesting," Ginny muttered.

"They said you killed an assassin," said Anakin.

"By accident, really," Harry shrugged. "It was a bit of a mess. You, on the other hand, tore through a whole blockade."

"Yeah, that was amazing!" Anakin gushed. "I went right into the reactor chamber and blew up the control ship from the inside."

"Sounds impressive," said Ginny. "How did you pilot the ship?"

"Oh it wasn't so different from flying pods back home," Anakin said, proceeding to educate them on the finer points of pod racing. It seemed rather more crazy than the kinds of stunt flying Harry was used to, but they could understand his passion.

"And you fly this canyon how fast exactly?" Ginny said, excitement staining her concern.

"They'd like to see you, Harry," said Master Jinn warmly.

The room looked ominously dark from the outside, figures in oversized seats silhouetted against a blinding panorama of the Coruscant skyline. Harry felt a slight chill as he entered the chamber, Ginny close behind him.

"We wished to speak with you alone," said a dark-skinned, imposing looking man, reclining gently in a large seat.

"And your name is?" said Harry, smiling slightly in spite of himself at the idea that he was in a room full of Jedi.

Within this room were more species than Harry had ever encountered. Appearances varied from a slightly diminutive, human-looking man with bat-like ears that extended past his shoulders, to a clawed, reptilian man, who, if Harry was not mistaken, was sitting on a coiled tail. Most importantly, a little green man sat placidly in the middle of the council's semicircle, watching him with mild curiosity — Master Yoda.

The dark man turned to look him fully in the eye. "Master Windu."

"Well, Master Windu," said Harry. "Anything you have to say to me, you may most certainly say to Miss Weasley here."

Ginny smirked slightly at this, but refrained from saying anything herself.

"As you wish," said the Jedi, frowning.

"My name is Adi Gallia, Mr. Potter," said a woman with a remarkably soothing voice. She appeared to be human, one of three on the council of twelve. "Master Jinn tells us that you have manifested several abilities already. Perhaps you could describe them for us?"

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Harry, bowing. "All of you. But I'm not sure how to separate the Force from my native magic."

"Of this magic, Master Jinn spoke," said what appeared to be a woman of Master Yoda's species. "Yaddle, my name is... Of your prowess, examples, he gave."

Harry blinked. "He didn't explain it to me. Not really, anyway."

"You have some proficiency with the lightsaber," said Adi Gallia. "According to Master Jinn, you caught the assassin's blade in your bare hands."

"I don't know how I did it," said Harry. "I wasn't even trying to. It just sort of happened. Like I wasn't in control of my body."

"You hear the Force whispering to you," said the reptilian man. It wasn't truly a question, and Harry knew instinctively to what he was referring. "My name is Oppo Rancisis, young wizard, and though I sense the strange 'magical' presence Master Jinn mentioned, you are unquestionably strong in the Force."

"I was in a coma for weeks," said Harry. "But while I was out I was hearing this kind of... voice. It didn't use words, but it showed me Master Jinn dying."

Master Windu shared a look with Master Yoda. Their expressions were unreadable, but Harry did not need to see their emotions written on their faces.

"Speak to you now, the voice does?" said Master Yoda.

"Not really, Master Yoda" said Harry. "It seems that it only talks to me when I'm in danger. But I still hear things. You're all… worried."

A slight murmur.

"Curious this is…" said Master Yoda. "Hmm. Without training, powerful you have grown."

"He has had training," said Ginny. "Of a sort. For the past year or so we've been going from one fight to the next."

"So it would seem," said a gentle-voiced man who identified himself as Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. "And do you have experience with starting fights, as well?"

"Yes," said Harry, with only a hint of shame. He might have been cowed if Ginny hadn't been standing firm at his side. "I am not innocent. But that is a problem, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Master Windu, simply.

Master Yoda sat with his eyes closed for a moment. "Anger, I sense in you."

Harry merely watched Master Yoda.

"Anger and pain," said the old Jedi Master. "Close to the dark side, do you tread."

"The dark side?" said Harry. "You think I'm corrupt just because I feel emotions?"

"Your motivations would be coloured by more than the Jedi Code dictates," said Master Windu. "Your attachments and personal feelings might distract you from the will of the Force — the greater good."

"Forgive me, masters," said Harry. "But I've heard that phrase very few times and I'm already tired of it."

Master Windu leaned back, looking an almost dangerous shade of curious.

"Is it the will of the Force that you take children from their families?" said Harry.

"Youngling, it is hardly your place to be questioning…" began Master Rancisis.

Master Yoda stopped him with a look.

"Master Rancisis, I am not one of your students," said Harry. "You might be older than me, but I have no reason to bow to your will. I do have a reason to be annoyed that you think so much of yourselves as to take small children from their families in the name of this 'greater good'."

Silence for a moment.

"Is it the will of the Force?" said Harry. "Or is it the will of old men and women in large chairs who do not like being questioned?"

"If wish to debate, you do, no need there is for confrontation," said Master Yoda, who appeared to be smiling in the midst of quite varied reactions from his peers. "Mattering not how large our chairs may be."

"You're right, Master Yoda, I'm sorry," said Harry. "It's a… personal matter for me."

"Further proof of your vulnerability," said Master Windu.

"I would rather be vulnerable than what you're suggesting," said Harry. "Are you beyond emotion, Master Windu?"

"I am in control," said Master Windu. "There is a difference."

"At what cost?" said Harry. "And if you are calling yourselves guardians of justice, wouldn't it be better to spend more time teaching people that control than to take away their choices? To make them less of a person?"

The reactions were more vocal this time.

"Your reaction only proves my point," said Harry, noting with a warm feeling that a few members of the Council appeared pensive, including Master Yoda. "You get so upset about me being afraid or angry. What about yourselves?"

"Youngling, this is a farce!" said Master Rancisis.

Ginny stepped in front of Harry, who was feeling a warmth that settled through to his very soul. The Jedi were not his destiny. And somehow, he knew that Master Jinn had never expected them to be. Anakin was the 'Chosen One', not him.

Master Yoda looked up at her then and frowned.

"Face danger from us, Mr. Potter does not," said Master Yoda.

"Forgive me," said Ginny. "It wouldn't even be the first time this week."

"Known, this argument is," said Master Yoda. A few of his peers seemed taken aback at this response, but none spoke. "Seen much change, the Jedi Order has. I may not agree. But understand, I do."

"Let us talk about the weapon you carry," said Master Windu.

"I presume you don't mean the sword," said Harry.

"The lightsaber," Master Windu said placidly. "That of the Sith you killed."

Harry held it out for inspection. It seemed to wrench itself from his grasp, and Harry frowned. Ginny's hand went towards her wand. "You could have asked..."

Master Windu smiled thinly. "It does not bother you? That you killed a man?"

"Now?" said Harry. "Not so much. It wasn't the first time I'd seen death. But at the time I did lose my cool. I thought I was a murderer. Passed out, actually."

"So we have been told," said Master Windu. "But why did you keep the weapon?"

"Mister Kenobi said I would need it," said Harry, confused now and looking to Ginny for assurance. "And I did, to kill the basilisk I'd been fighting."

"You misunderstand," said Master Windu. "Master Jinn and his padawan Kenobi gave a full report. I am asking what the weapon means to you that you are still holding it to this day. Is it a trophy, perhaps?"

Harry felt his expression sour slightly. "The only memento I could want of that day is that I still have Ginny with me, breathing and healthy and happy."

Ginny glanced back at him, blushing slightly but unshaken.

"Interesting that you put it that way," said Windu. "Am I alone in this room in sensing the bond between the two younglings?"

Ginny turned redder still, but more than that, Harry could feel a seed of uncertainty in her heart.

"But do any of you sense the bonds the boy is forming amongst our number?" said Windu. He turned a dark eye on Harry as the rest of the High Council began to shift uneasily. "The bonds he has already formed with Jinn and Kenobi?"

"Even if what you're suggesting is true, there was little hostility in the youngling," said Adi Gallia. "There is no subterfuge here."

"Even if what _you_ are saying is true," said Master Windu. "Our vision is clouded enough already, and he already is affecting you."

"Would someone like to explain what is going on?" said Harry. "Or are you just going to act on all this fear I'm feeling?"

"Come in," said Master Yoda quietly.

The doors slid open and Master Jinn led Kenobi into the chamber.

"You, Mr. Potter, are a cipher," said Master Windu. "Damaged in the Force, you form bonds with everyone around you, siphoning away their life energy and their will. Those who take issue with you become obsessed. Those who take kindly to you soon are ready to follow you to their doom."

Harry felt as though he had been punched.

"We _understand_ , Master Windu," said Master Jinn. "Must you be so hard on the boy?"

"I... I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't... I'm killing my friends?!"

"Slowly, perhaps," Master Yoda frowned. "Strong is the bond between Miss Weasley and you, but little movement of life energies do I sense."

The commotion was rising around them. In the centre of it all, Windu and Yoda. Master Yoda frowned across the room at him, apparently thinking fast. Master Windu seemed more calm, twirling the Sith assassin's blade telekinetically above an open palm. The man was staring dispassionately at him. What was this Jedi's game?

Conversations were getting heated now, and through his own disquiet Harry could feel Ginny starting to despair. If only he had the words to help... But just then he felt he was barely holding on to himself.

"Surely we cannot allow this child to carry a Jedi weapon..." Harry heard Master Rancisis murmur.

"Excuse me?" said Harry. It would be so easy to vent his feelings. These Jedi who stole children from their cradles thought to judge him, to label him, and now to take his personal effects? So very easy...

Rancisis turned to him, and Harry felt the Jedi's apprehension. There was fear there. So much for their dearly bought control. And as he held the older man's eye, that fear grew.

"The council seems divided, master," said Master Windu. Master Yoda looked askance at his peer and nodded slightly.

"I find myself inclined to agree with Master Rancisis," said a horned man.

"Recall the treatment of Meetra Surik at this council's hands, you must," said Master Yoda. "Too often, allow fear to colour their decisions, the wise masters of the Jedi do, hmm?"

"Surik is but one example," said another master neutrally.

"Yes," said Master Yoda. "The one and _only_ example she is. But twelve, a council is, hmm? Many examples I see. Foolish it is, at first glance to judge. Another time, debate this we will. His age, maturity, known concerns are these."

"You were happy to turn away young Skywalker on the same grounds, Master Yoda," said Master Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"Unmade, that decision remains," Master Yoda sighed. "Freedom, this boy wants, and freedom shall he have. No right, have we, to take this weapon from him."

"Nor does this council have the right to prevent me from training him," said Master Jinn. "I do not serve for the sake of a title or a comfortable seat." A couple of masters stiffened slightly. "I am a servant of the Force. Much centres upon this child, as is the case with the young Skywalker, and I will gladly surrender my lightsaber to see that both get the training they need."

"We may ask that of you," said Master Windu.

"So much for being above emotion," said Harry.

The man turned to stare at Harry. More than a few of his fellow masters turned to look at him.

"Are you presuming to judge my state of mind, youngling?" the man said.

"I don't need to judge anything," said Harry. "You've been getting slowly more irritated through this whole meeting, just like Master Rancisis has gotten more afraid. And I don't mean to make you more annoyed but I'd appreciate you giving the lightsaber back."

* * *

Harry sat silently with his back to the wall, idly spinning the lightsaber hilt over his hand. Ginny's mind was a storm as she sat beside him in the hallway. A surge of pain came through the bond, and the hilt clattered noisily on the metal floor.

Harry turned as if to say something, but Ginny had turned away, and the words died in his throat. Then he felt the Jedi approaching and shelved it.

"Anakin," said Master Jinn. "As soon as Obi-Wan has passed his trials, he will train you in the ways of the Force."

Anakin seemed overjoyed at first, before hesitating. "Why can't _you_ train me?"

"I have been given the more unusual assignment," said Master Jinn.

"They agreed?" Harry said, uncertain. "You can train me?"

"Officially I'm more an observer," the Jedi Master smiled. "But yes, I fully intend to train you in the ways of the Force."

"Chin up, Anakin," said Harry. "You're going to be a Jedi. And I'm sure you'll see Master Jinn around."

"Yeah," said Anakin, glancing up at Obi-Wan.

"I may have my doubts," said Kenobi. "But Master Qui-Gon and the council agree that it would be of great benefit to the both of us. And besides, I won't be alone. I really don't think I could manage without Master Jinn's guidance."

Anakin smiled. "Well, okay."

Harry looked over at the brooding form of his girlfriend and felt his heart seize up a little. That was a conversation that would have to wait. She wouldn't want to open her heart in front of all these people.

"Well, our first port of call should be the Senate building," said Master Jinn. "We need to get you identification, and report on the assassin."

"Mr. Potter," said Master Yoda. The diminutive Jedi Master hobbled towards them with his little wooden walking stick for support.

"Master Yoda," said Harry, bowing.

"Old, these eyes now are," said Master Yoda. "Still see they do."

Harry was not stupid. Master Jinn's report must have alluded to the strange notion of Earth's people knowing of the Jedi. "I can't tell you what you want to know, Master Yoda."

Master Yoda hummed soberly. "Clouded, our vision has become. The dark side it is, as the Sith rise around us."

"And some of the masters are becoming afraid that they aren't as powerful as they thought," said Harry.

Master Yoda hummed again. "Keep your words. I need them not. Your feelings still I see. Dread, pity… A Jedi you will never be. Power you have, yes, and commitment to aid those who do not... A _Jedi_ you will never be. Master Jinn, help you he will. Something else, you will become. Something we need. Something _you_ need."

* * *

 _Reviews!_

Dragon Man 180: I feel like a Jedi wouldn't be best placed to teach at Hogwarts, but it'd be cool :D And yes, you're right about the basilisk, but unfortunately there wouldn't be much left to save other than its life. Its mind was largely gone to ensure obedience. I appreciate the support :)

stars90: Thanks, I like to have some fun with it! That battle was written and rewritten so many times... Do PM me if your curiosity isn't satisfied, some things might be a little esoteric. I ended up doing a fair bit of reading to get a better feel for who they were at the point of TPM, so I'm glad that it came through! There are many adventures yet to come :)

Vangran: Haha! I was so happy to read this review, you went through all the struggles I did when planning this! I am with you. You might see that in this chapter. Different SW writers have shown the Jedi as various degrees of flawed, but their philosophy leads to a degree of hypocrisy no matter how you slice it.

Kris: Yeah.

HowInMadHowie: Yeah, Dumbledore might support muggle rights, but he doesn't necessarily keep fully abreast of popular culture. Although, it is amusing to think of him sitting in an Odeon. Good question :) We might see him again... Thanks for the review!

crossfire922: Hey, cheers! It really does take a long, long time if you're looking for characters. It's just a slow introduction of powers to begin with :)


	44. 44 - Line in the Sand

The room Harry found himself in was architecturally beautiful, if not overly dressed up. In fact it seemed exactly the kind of office a highly placed politician might want to keep. Grand enough to speak to the importance of the station without sufficient extravagance to smell of corruption. The only expensive looking items were a solitary painting and a pair of stone busts. These, however, were not what caught Harry's eye. A long, panoramic window behind the desk revealed a vast swathe of the Coruscanti cityscape, with a nearby set of skylanes placed almost as if on purpose to the lower-right, stretching off into the distance.

"Master Jinn," said a middle aged woman in what seemed to be formal robes. Her accent was cut-glass Queen's English, such that Harry wondered if she might be nobility. "A pleasure to see you again. And who might this young man be? A new apprentice?"

"Likewise, senator," said Master Jinn. "This is Harry Potter, and yes, he is my newest padawan. Harry, this is Senator Averna Genzhu for Coruscant."

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Harry, shaking her hand.

"Your Jedi traditions have always fascinated me," she said, smiling gently. "Tell me, Qui-Gon, what can I do for _you_ today?"

"I am wondering whether the Republic still honours its bounty on Sith insurgents," Master Jinn said.

"Sith..." she muttered, tapping away at her datapad. "Ancient enemy of the Jedi. The story was that you slew one on Naboo during the battle. But I didn't think you the type to chase bounties."

"I'm not," Master Jinn agreed. "But it was not I who killed the assassin."

The senator's jaw dropped. "I'll need to contact the senator from Naboo. Has this been officially recognised?"

"Young Harry received a knighthood from the Queen herself for his actions," Master Jinn said, pleased.

"The bounty stands," said Senator Genzhu. "25000 alive, 15000 dead. We had the body, until the Jedi cremated it, so I will simply have to liaise with the senator from Naboo to have the paperwork pushed through. And has your Royal honour been ratified?"

"I... don't think so," said Harry.

"Let me see if he's available," said Senator Genzhu. "Roan, can you put a level 3 to Senator Bhakan of Naboo? It's to do with the dead Sith."

"Yes, ma'am," said a voice through the commlink on the desk.

"Bounty hunting is a strange hobby for a Jedi," said the senator. "Still, both lucrative and well-suited to your skill set."

"If it helps," said Harry.

The senator smiled, typing furiously. "Now that is a Jedi talking. May I have your ID?"

Harry offered the card they had only just secured for him in the State Ministry building. With Grand Master Yoda to vouch for him, he had encountered little resistance.

Senator Genzhu tapped the card on her datapad and handed it back to him. "Well then, we simply need Senator Bhakan to confirm the details and I can have funds transferred to you."

Harry smiled, thinking of their adventure through Coruscant to get him a bank account and the other trappings of citizenship. It was hardly Diagon Alley, but the rapid transport links and turbolifts meant that getting himself fully set up as a citizen of the Galactic Republic had taken only a couple of hours.

"How goes the mission to extend Republic jurisdiction on Coruscant?" said Master Jinn.

"We were making decent headway until the mess with the Trade Federation," said Senator Genzhu. "So many resources are tied up with internal investigations and review committees... To be frank, Qui-Gon, the Republic is suffocating under its own weight."

Master Jinn frowned deeply. "My master always said it would come to this."

"Yes, well, he _has_ been quite vocal recently," said Genzhu. "All but calling us a laughing stock, and finding creative ways of shaming the whole institution. He's a keen political mind, he knows he is only making it worse, but I fear that, like many, he has simply lost all hope."

"I'm sorry to hear it," said Master Jinn.

Harry said nothing. He knew how that story would end. In his mind's eye, he envisioned Imperial Star Destroyers looming over the skyline, and TIE fighters patrolling the skies. He was still gazing out through the window when the doors slid open.

"Senator Genzhu," said a tall, dark man, who swept into the room in formal robes of his own. "You called."

"Senator Bhakan," said Genzhu. "This is Master Jinn..."

"Of course," said the Naboo senator, bowing. "You and your apprentice are quite well known on our planet for the service you did us."

"It was only our duty, but it was a pleasure to do what we could," Master Jinn smiled.

"Sir Harry Potter," said Senator Bhakan, bowing once more. "Her majesty Queen Amidala asked that I look out for you."

"Well, that answers that," said Senator Genzhu. "Perhaps you would like to finish the bounty form for Mr. Potter?"

"I would be delighted," said the senator, tapping their datapads together and working away for a moment. "You are 15000 credits richer, sir. I hope you will use the money wisely."

"Thank you, senators," said Harry.

It certainly pleased him that he would have resources on Coruscant of all places, but somehow it could not raise his spirits. Now that the excitement of discovering a new world was wearing off, the words of the Jedi High Council were beginning to weigh upon him.

"And I have registered your Naboo royal honour with the Republic," said Senator Bhakan. "It will not make much difference outside of Naboo space, I'm afraid, but it is there."

"Thank you very much," said Harry, smiling and shaking his hand.

With that, they concluded the meeting, and Harry hurried outside to find Ginny idly scuffing the ground with the toe of her shoe.

"Are we going home, then?" she said.

"There's just one more thing," said Master Jinn. "You might have noticed that time works differently here."

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling slightly as he remembered Queen Amidala's revelation.

"It is a big galaxy," said the Jedi Master. "If I might make a recommendation, you could quite comfortably afford an old, functional starship."

"Master Jinn," said a grinning Harry. "I don't think you need to persuade me."

A starship of his own. A private vessel to explore the vastness of space... Harry almost forgot his worries as they left the governmental district behind.

Almost was the operative term. As soon as he turned to share his joy with Ginny, whose mood surely couldn't extend to the wonders of space travel, he found a brooding look and a complete lack of attention.

"What's the-" Harry began, concerned.

"Nothing," Ginny smiled. It might have been the most forced smile Harry had ever seen. And he used to live with the Dursleys.

"Master Jinn, would you mind if we-" said Harry, frowning when Ginny cut across him.

"Really, there's nothing," said Ginny. She was talking to the Jedi more than to him. "Please. Let's carry on."

Master Jinn gave a curt nod, but said nothing.

Harry found himself utterly lost. He wanted to be enthusiastic about potentially buying his own space vessel, but on realising that he could no longer sense Ginny's thoughts, Harry didn't know down from up. Through the Force she was... afraid... and angry?

"Harry!" said Master Jinn, pulling him to the side before he could walk headfirst into a tall, reptilian creature who looked rather like he might eat Harry if given an excuse.

They made the shuttle trip to the primary trade sector in near silence, as Harry tried to figure out how to talk to Ginny about whatever was bothering her and Ginny kept resolutely to herself. He barely gave note to the vast shopping centres and warehouses they passed on the way. Harry's stomach was on its way to his feet. He followed Master Jinn on a kind of autopilot, so distracted that he did not even realise they had entered the ship sales yard until the alien woman Master Jinn was talking to began excitedly extolling the virtues of the spacecraft they were standing beneath.

After the Naboo vessel they had arrived in, most of the ships seemed rather unremarkable. Luckily, it seemed Master Jinn had a discerning eye.

"The Loronar E-7," the woman said neutrally. "A noble thing to be sure, but if you truly want a long-range vessel, something newer, easier to find parts for..."

"Loronar are well known for their back catalogues," Master Jinn pointed out. "Is something wrong with the craft?"

"No, it's in fine condition for it's age," said the trader. "The hyperdrive in particular is immaculate. Replaced two years ago and serviced every six months since."

"Might we take a ride?" said Master Jinn. "You can tell us more on the trip."

"Of course," the woman smiled, looking slightly wistfully at the ship they were leaving behind.

The craft Master Jinn had picked out was sleek without beauty, a thing that had been designed for a purpose and little else besides. Finished in a nondescript grey, it seemed rather the definition of utilitarian. That did not change when they entered. Harry turned to Ginny, looking for something, anything... But she still seemed to be pretending that he did not exist.

The saleswoman had returned to advertisement mode, reeling off praise for the vessel's range and storage capacity. Lift off was certainly quite smooth, and Harry had to appreciate the smooth hum from the engines as they pulled away.

It didn't take long for Master Jinn to make the call, and after an intense bit of haggling, they were ready to go. Harry was rather glad of it, too. The ship itself they left in a Jedi temple hangar bay, ready for preparation as soon as they returned. Lightning tickled his fingertips at the thought of it. After all the drama and the pain, Harry would not get to recover by spending time with his family. There was no time to heal those wounds, beyond the weeks he had spent with Ginny between this world and the next.

Before Harry could blink, they were teleporting back to Scotland, and Madam Pomfrey was sending them off to see Professor McGonagall. The basilisk victims were still behind curtains.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

His footsteps echoed like drum beats, turning his stomach into putty and shaking his brain until it rattled in his skull, for Harry walked to Professor McGonagall's office beside a stranger. There was nothing familiar about this girl who wore Ginny's face. He had walked the planes of Ginny's mind. Her very soul had touched his in ways that had changed him, and for the better. And not a week previously, in the shared space of their minds... Harry wanted to scream.

"Come in," Professor McGonagall said. The portrait swung open idly, revealing the surprisingly cosy and comfortable looking interior. Harry had rather been expecting something more spartan from the austere woman. Though it was hardly a Christmas card affair, it had a great deal of the warmth of the Gryffindor common room. "I am glad that your... adventure with Master Jinn has not been as taxing as your last ordeal."

Harry couldn't say with certainty that that was true. He noted after a moment that his gaze had drifted, and that their head of house was now wearing a mildly concerned frown.

"In any case..." she said. "You have both missed substantial parts of the curriculum. It was not your fault, I know. I didn't bring you both here to be punished for narrowly evading death _again_. But we do need to discuss if and how you could catch up before the final exams."

"I do still remember most of my classes, professor," said Ginny. "He kept me mostly on top of school work. Probably so that nobody would be paying attention."

Harry gritted his teeth and stood still. Perhaps he could kill Voldemort again next year. It would give him something to look forward to.

"Are you certain that you wouldn't like some extra provision, Miss Weasley?" said Professor McGonagall. "As extenuating circumstances go... let's just say that we are more than happy to do whatever we can."

"No, I'll be fine, thank you," said Ginny. "May I go?"

"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring as she looked, flabbergasted, at Ginny's retreating back.

"Hermione will see her right, professor," said Harry.

"Miss G-?" Professor McGonagall said, turning disbelieving eyes upon him. She shook her head. "Regardless, I would have hoped to give her some extra help. After what she went through..."

"Ginny's strong," Harry shrugged. "And she has lots of friends."

"I'll not argue with you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, though she seemed quite ready to. "However, I hope you both know that my door is open, as is Madam Pomfrey's, and any of the other professors."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, professor."

"At any rate, we must sort out a schedule for remedial classes," said Professor McGonagall. "I have faith in you, Potter, you performed well last year, but you will need to double down if you want to pass to third year with the rest of your class."

"If Crabbe manages it..." said Harry.

"I should certainly hope that you are aiming higher than that, Mr. Potter."

It was a small thing, but it helped. For a moment, Harry had nothing else on his mind.

For what must have been half an hour they sat and discussed which subjects he had greater aptitude for and which ones he might need more help with, the timetabling of it all, and which classes he might not be ready to rejoin after being away for so long. Harry would have been all for it if it had meant skipping Potions, but as it was, the process seemed largely to separate him from his classmates. That was when the final nail hit.

"I asked the team not to bring it up with you," said Professor McGonagall. "But the match against Hufflepuff is this weekend."

"Professor?" said Harry, alarmed.

"You are very behind, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "You have missed months of schooling, and we need to somehow combine the remaining curriculum with remedial classes and enough physical training to keep you fighting fit. You do not have ten to fifteen hours a week free to practise Seeking."

Harry felt the despair grow in his heart. All the joys of his life were rapidly evaporating. "Surely I could still play in the matches, professor? We don't have a replacement."

"I am well aware of our position," said Professor McGonagall. "If the situation were less extreme I would not have chosen this. But as you are well aware, Quidditch matches can last days, and the only alternative here is to have you retake the year."

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'll find another hobby for the year then."

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," said his head of house, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I bought you that Nimbus with my own money, not only because I so dearly hate seeing that cup in Professor Snape's office, but... In the air, much like on the ground, you are so very reminiscent of your father."

"Professor?" said Harry.

"I remembered what he said the last time I saw him..." Professor McGonagall said, her eyes distant. "You had gotten a toy broomstick for your birthday, and you hadn't parted with it since. Even when they made you sit and eat you would hold it in your lap, and no matter what you broke they couldn't bear to part you from it either."

Harry breathed deeply, and she seemed to break out of her reverie.

"I would not do this if I did not have to, Potter," she said. "But I see no other way forward."

"I understand, professor," said Harry. "I will not let you down."

"Good," said Professor McGonagall. "I will speak to the professors, but apart from Professor Snape I doubt there will be any difficulties."

"Couldn't you teach me Potions, professor?" said Harry.

"Professor Snape's skill eclipses my own to a degree I cannot fathom, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall.

"Even if he could make Elixir of Life from a bezoar, you would be a better teacher," Harry said vehemently.

Professor McGonagall smiled. It was only for a moment, but Harry felt like Christmas had come early. She glanced down to his waist. "The sword has become quite comfortable on your belt."

Harry felt the silver sing beneath his fingertips. "Yes, but I should return it."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "It is not a common thing, Potter, for the sword to come to a student. Know that you have done your house proud."

"Thank you, professor," said Harry humbly. The sword was cool rather than cold to the touch. Its warm heart beat in time with his own.

Harry's fingers rested lightly upon that silver hilt all the way to Professor Dumbledore's office, not with the caution of his Head of House fingering her wand, but in a state of complete serenity. The blade hummed with the voices of a hundred men, and in their chorus the noise of his problems could scarcely be heard. But this thing was fleeting. A thought at a touch and nothing more. Merely an echo of champions past...

Glowering at the headmaster's door, Harry imagined plunging the blade deep into the old man's chest. He regretted it immediately, but his rage only burned hotter. The machinations of the man, his base transgressions... Harry should have been glad to see him suffer. But as he looked now into those clear blue eyes, Harry realised that as much as he hated Professor Dumbledore, he could not be brought to murder him. It was not a matter of mercy. Harry could never cross that line.

"I am glad to see that you returned safely," said Professor Dumbledore. "The proper arrangements have been made, I trust, to bring you back in line with your peers?"

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," said Professor McGonagall.

"I wanted to return this, professor," said Harry. The honorific caught in his throat, like a bone.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," Professor Dumbledore smiled, taking the offered scabbard. "Alas, I do not know where it might be kept. When you drew it from the Sorting Hat, it might have been summoned from anywhere. The scabbard was resting under the hat when I returned here all those weeks ago."

"Are you telling me to keep it, sir?" said Harry.

Professor McGonagall inhaled sharply.

"Harry..." Professor Dumbledore began.

"Mr. Potter, please, sir," said Harry, gritting his teeth.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to age in front of him, but Harry maintained his composure. There was no going back.

"Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore. "What I am saying is that there may be no choice to the matter."

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a rush of urgency. "Try calling to the sword."

Harry frowned suspiciously at the two professors, but did as Professor McGonagall asked, raising a hand idly. That hand soon spasmed around the solid silver hilt that had slammed firmly into his palm.

"May I speak with the Sorting Hat, sir?" said Harry.

"Of course," said Professor Dumbledore.

Harry kept staring at the weapon in his hand. To his knowledge, he had not used the Force. He had called to the sword exactly as he would to his broomstick.

 ** _'_** ** _Is this to become a routine visit, Harry Potter?'_** said the Hat. **_'For if it is, I'd like to ask that next time I not be left to float in sewage.'_**

Harry sighed. **_'I'm sorry, I was a little preoccupied.'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Understandable,' /i_** the Hat said amicably. ** _'But please do take it into consideration. I was not built for sailing the low seas.'_**

Harry snorted. **_'I needed to ask...'_**

 ** _'_** ** _Why the sword of Godric Gryffindor has taken a liking to you?'_** the old hat said, laughing almost ominously. **_'It is no simple sword, Harry. This was one of the finest masterpieces of the first millennium, goblin or not. When it chooses a wizard, it is not the simple affinity of a wand. For better or worse, your fate is bound to that blade, Harry Potter.'_**

Harry's eyes widened in alarm, and he raised the sword before his obscured eyes, not needing them to see. He could best describe the sword's reaction as a shrug. But he could feel the bond that had formed, see it even. It _was_ stronger than the bond to his wand. In terms of its character, it was rather reminiscent of his bond to Ginny...

 ** _'_** ** _Do you speak, sword of Gryffindor?'_**

A long pause.

 ** _'_** ** _I don't remember it ever communicating directly, I'm afraid,'_** said the Sorting Hat. **_'But I'm sure it understands you.'_**

Warmth suffused Harry's fingers. "I'm sure I'm not worthy of this. But thank you for the honour."

A low kind of anger simmered in him. Harry took the sword's meaning.

"Then I will not disappoint you," said Harry.

Warmth again.

 ** _'_** ** _Thank you, Hat,'_** Harry thought.

 ** _'_** ** _Oh believe me,'_** said the Sorting Hat. **_'The pleasure was all mine.'_**

A knock at the door came just as Harry placed the Sorting Hat back on its pedestal.

"Ah," said the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. "It has been devilishly hard to get a hold of you, Professor Dumbledore, but I can return later if you are busy."

Harry felt his mind fade back to that fateful day on Diagon Alley. The circumstances were too extraordinary to be mere coincidence. Malfoy had needed to be rid of Dark artifacts. He was trying to antagonise Mr. Weasley's Muggle Rights Bill. And he had picked out from Ginny's cauldron the very book that had contained the diary later on.

"By all means, speak your peace," said Professor Dumbledore warmly.

"The other governors have brought it to my attention that they have reinstated you without my input," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would like an explanation."

Harry clamped down on the urge to remove the villain's head from his body. This was the man who had had him and Ginny possessed by Lord Voldemort, and had smuggled the murderous wraith into Hogwarts. The last man to do that, Harry had torn into two pieces and left to disintegrate beneath the castle floors. Gryffindor's sword thrummed.

"As to why the other governors are being less than communicative, many of them seem to be under the impression that you had threatened to curse their families if they did not oust me," said Professor Dumbledore serenely. Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he showed no other sign of a response. "When they heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed, and that Harry Potter had gone missing, all eleven sent letters asking me to return. Apparently, they decided I was the best man for the job after all."

"I see," said Mr. Malfoy. "The attacks certainly seemed to have stopped, so congratulations are in order. But did you find the culprit?"

"We did," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

" _And?_ " said Mr. Malfoy. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby. The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist. Harry nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the two men and the gored little book that had caused so much pain. Dobby began twisting his own ears as punishment.

"I see..." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here hadn't discovered this book, why – Ginny Weasley might have taken all of the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will..."

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. He looked curiously at Harry, briefly, before turning his attention back to Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall's nostrils were white.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise..."

Mr. Malfoy made something approximating a sympathetic grimace. "Dire, I'm sure."

"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him. "How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?"

"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it."

Lucius Malfoy's entire face tensed. "Do you intend to pit your family name against mine and prove it, Potter? Or do you simply wish to shed some of your fortune on charges of slander?"

"Who needs proof?" said Harry, stroking the sword hilt at his hip. "I'm not taking you to court, Mr. Malfoy. But the next time that you or your family cross me or mine, I will remember."

"Is that a threat?" Malfoy smiled, regarding him coolly.

"It is a promise," said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy seemed more amused than upset, but he was unsettled to say the least. Harry still was unused to perceiving the emotions of others in this pale echo of his connection with Ginny, but the stress on Malfoy's mind was so great that Harry half-expected to see his forehead crack.

" _Whoever_ has been giving out Lord Voldemort's old school things should likely rethink their strategy," said Professor Dumbledore. "If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, there would be rather a number of people with a personal stake in seeing justice served..."

"Indeed," said Malfoy. "Well, I see that the situation is well in hand here. I shall take my leave of you. Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall."

The blonde man was turning to leave when he caught Harry's eye. Malfoy faltered slightly. There was no fear in his eyes, but his concern bled through to his face. Harry, who had been idly watching the villain, did not realise until after Malfoy had left that his hand had remained comfortably upon the hilt of his sword. A slow smirk spread across his face.

Hearing Dobby squeal, Harry's smirk set into a grimace. "Professor, do you mind if I give Mr. Malfoy his diary back?"

"It is yours by right of combat, Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore. "Do with it what you will."

Harry nodded, tugging off a sock and hiding it among the diary's limp, lifeless pages. The corkscrew staircase outside was at the bottom of its shaft, Malfoy just having descended. Rather than wait, Harry listened to the wordless whisperings in his mind and jumped.

Harry was not certain about the sword. Ginny had been in his head for the longest time, but in Mr. Weasley's words, he could see where she kept her brain. Besides, it had not been a one way street. If he was to learn the ways of the Force, however... he was going to have to believe that he was capable. Harry imagined himself slowing down, a barrier between him and the ground, and focused. With a thud, he hit the ground, lightning crackling at his fingertips.

Malfoy and Dobby both turned, surprised.

"Mr. Potter?" said Malfoy.

Harry noticed the way that Dobby was favouring one leg, and his eyes narrowed. Currents began to spread in rivulets from his fingers up to his wrists. Clenching his teeth, Harry put them out. "You should have this, sir."

Harry forced the book upon Malfoy, who sneered at him. "My, my, Mr. Potter. Resorted to planting evidence now, have you?"

"I just thought you might want it back," said Harry. "I doubt they're easy to come by. Who knows? Someone might come _looking_ for it."

Harry knew from the way his adversary's demeanour changed that he had hit the jackpot. Malfoy passed the diary to Dobby, gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. One long finger poked him in the sternum.

"You're going to meet the same sticky end as your parents, Potter," he hissed. "Perhaps nobody ever told you, but the reason you are the last of your line is that heroes don't live long."

"I suppose Draco's so lonely because of all the inbreeding then," said Harry, staring right back at Malfoy's furious grey eyes. "Or perhaps Mrs Malfoy thought once was quite enough?"

"Come, Dobby," said Malfoy, sneering. "Let us leave before the boy can regret our meeting."

He turned to go.

"Open it," Harry hissed, staring intently at the diary.

Flicking the book open, Dobby stared at the sock within.

"Come, Dobby," said Malfoy, drawing his wand, which was hidden such that it formed the silver head of his cane. "I said, _come_."

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure. Harry did not even try to hide a satisfied smirk.

"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master has presented Dobby with clothes, and Dobby – Dobby is free."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he turned his wand on Harry. "You've lost me my servant, boy!"

Acting on instinct, Harry drew the gleaming blade, holding it in front of him to point, unwavering, at Lucius Malfoy's heart. But before the duel could even begin, Dobby shouted, "You shall _not_ harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below.

"I don't like bullies, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry. "And I suppose Draco takes after _you_ because I don't think I like you much either."

Malfoy rose slowly, blasted his robes clean, and turned a gaze on Harry that still held a great deal of anger, but was also somewhat amused.

"That was well enough played, I suppose," Malfoy said. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."

"I suppose I'll look forward to it," said Harry.

Malfoy swept away without another word. Harry felt the sword's mirth as he restored it to its scabbard with a sigh.

"And we didn't even lose the diary's corpse," said Harry. "I'd call today a win."

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"There was no way in the world I would just leave you to his mercy, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."

The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well –"

"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

"Right," said Harry, shaking his head. At this point, he was really just glad the threat of the Chamber had been lifted. "Well, I'd better go. The professors are waiting for me, and I'm sure they'll want me to start my tuition."

Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.

"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

"Farewell, Dobby," Harry grinned. "The free elf."

When Harry returned to Professor Dumbledore's office, he found his parents already standing there with Master Jinn, hotly debating Harry's calendar with Professor McGonagall.

"He's only a boy!" said Mrs Weasley. "What do you mean by not letting him have a holiday?"

"I _hope_ they're giving me a chance of growing into a man," said Harry. "I've been living a charmed life, Mum, but at this rate I won't survive my schooling."

"And whose fault is that?" Mrs Weasley said furiously.

"Everyone's?" Harry suggested. "No one's?"

"Mr. Potter is right," said Professor McGonagall. "While the incident with Professor Quirrell should have been dealt with by staff far earlier, the Chamber was rather beyond us. Being that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is clearly never going to stop being a factor in Harry's life, it would be utterly damning to him not to train him as best we are able."

"Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "You can fight this tooth and nail, but Harry will never know true peace. There is nothing you can do to change that."

Mrs Weasley sobbed quietly, and Harry hurried over to comfort her.

"The boy has a great deal of natural talent," said Master Jinn softly. "But power the like of this is not something to be trifled with. I need to train him not to be corrupted into misusing it."

"Harry would never!" Mrs Weasley insisted.

"Nobody is perfect, Mum," said Harry. "I'd rather be the good guy at the end of this story."

"You will _always_ be the good guy," said Mrs Weasley earnestly, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Do you understand, Harry?"

That his mother would always take his side... Harry did understand. It made him ache to know that someone cared for him so deeply. And it saddened him to know that it was wrong. But Harry would train _for_ her. For his family and for his friends. So that whenever they were called upon to choose sides, he would not be unworthy of their support.

Gryffindor's sword was singing.

* * *

Harry's mood was soaring as he strode back towards the Gryffindor common room. He felt almost as though he were walking upon clouds. All it took to burst his bubble was one look. Ginny had a power over him that knew no limit.

"Hey," Harry tried.

Ginny said nothing, but fell into step beside him. The ten inches between them stretched for miles.

"I saw Master Jinn talking to Mum and Dad," said Ginny.

"Yeah, they're in..."

"You're going to leave," Ginny said abruptly.

Harry turned to look at her stony face. " _Ginny_..."

"You're leaving us to go and train," she said. "Aren't you?"

Harry reached out for her hand, but she shrugged him off angrily.

"Ginny what do you want me to do?" said Harry. "How close do I have to come to dying? I saw what happened to my body. I turned myself into fucking sausages trying to break Riddle's hold on you. After everything we've been through..."

"Together!" Ginny yelled. "We did everything _together_! But I can't come with you, can I?"

"That's not the Ginny I know," said Harry. "She'd say to hell with everything. Sneak past Mum and come anyway."

"The Ginny you knew died in the Chamber of Secrets," said Ginny.

Harry gaped, taking a step back. "So what you said..."

"Fuck you, Harry," said Ginny. "This isn't a one way street."

"You think I want to be away from you?" Harry cried. "From any of you? That this is some great adventure for me and just me? I want to live, Ginny! You gave me something to fight for! You fucking gave me _hope_!"

For a moment, Ginny wavered. Then she shook her head and glared at him. "That's you, isn't it? Getting inside of my head?"

" _Ginny?_ " Harry said, alarmed.

"I won't do it, Harry," Ginny said. "Not like this."

Harry only heard a dull roar. But he didn't need to hear the words to know. The sword, the Jedi... All had turned to ash.


	45. 45 - Fear Itself

Harry held his invisibility cloak tightly about him as the wind began to pick up. The sword and his Nimbus were gently humming in harmony, like music on the breeze.

"Shut _up_!" said Harry. "Both of you!"

Harry should have been surprised to note that they did. Harry, however, was not paying them the slightest bit of heed.

A life without Ginny... For a moment, Harry wished the basilisk had finished him. Unfortunately, that would have unleashed a young Voldemort on the school, and the dream soon ended.

Grinding the heel of his hand into his forehead, Harry drove the broomstick on. Who to turn to when the person who swore they would never abandon you turns their back? Harry chose the sky. Still, even that was grey and cold.

A shrill bark came to him on the wind. Harry slumped on his broom as Hedwig caught up to him. As much as it comforted him to have her at his side, Harry felt that much worse that he hadn't been to the Owlery to visit his familiar. She did not seem so bothered by that. Calling to him through the buffeting air, Hedwig swooped in and perched on his shoulder. Closing his eyes, Harry turned the broom skyward and just revelled in the pull of the Earth below. Hedwig's talons dug into his shoulder as he climbed, but the pain was welcome. It was another constant companion, and somehow the feeling brought a sense of relief, almost as though the stress was escaping through his punctured skin.

Clamping the broom thrust, Harry let them drift to a halt, spinning to point back down at the ground. He knew the moment even with his eyes closed.

FWOOSH

Wind tore at his robes and his face, roaring like lions in his ears. The raw speed of the dive was overwhelming to his senses, but at the same time granted him a clarity he found in precious few places besides. Ginny was angry with him for leaving when she hadn't been before. Something had changed. And if he wanted her back, he would simply have to find out what that was. Harry gritted his teeth and pulled out of the dive, skimming the grass with the tips of his shoes.

It would be so much easier if Ginny would only tell him what the problem was. It was with some bitterness that he added, _'rather than break it off with me.'_

Feeling the rain run down his face, Harry gave up. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he had his mission, and catching a cold out in the rain was not part of it. Shivering slightly, Harry made his way back into the school. Hedwig flitted around him, making little sounds of concern.

"I'm okay, Hedwig," said Harry. Hedwig made an indignant kind of squawking sound. "I will be. Thank you, girl."

She settled back on his shoulder, resting her body against his head.

 _'_ _I hope I will.'_

Harry grimaced at the squelching sounds his shoes made as he entered the castle. Hurrying to avoid the wrath of Filch, Harry raced up the marble staircase, Hedwig soaring overhead. Too late, he heard a cat mewling, and he ducked into the first corridor that came up ahead. His footprints would likely lead Filch much of the way, but they were almost faded now, and if his memory was not too damaged, he thought he recognised the girls' bathroom coming up on the right.

Harry slammed the door shut as soon as Hedwig came through, collapsing back against it for support.

"Filth!" they heard Filch cry. "Where did they go, my sweet?"

Harry was sure that he wanted to feel sorry for the man. It seemed unfair to rest so much responsibility on one person, especially with his being unable to practice magic. But considering the army of house-elves who were likely doing the bulk of the work, Harry wasn't certain how much sympathy the bitter old man deserved.

"Oh," said Myrtle. "You're alive."

Harry looked up to see the bathroom much as he had left it. The only thing missing was Lockhart's crumpled, steaming body.

"You sound almost disappointed, Myrtle," said Harry. "Whatever happened to hello?"

Myrtle, who was sitting atop the central sinks, blushed slightly and looked away. "Hi, Harry. Did you get him?"

"I got him," Harry nodded. "But getting this guy to stay dead is like trying to hold back the tide."

"I'm sure you'll do it," Myrtle said quietly.

"You took good care of Lockhart for me, didn't you?" said Harry.

Myrtle perked up a bit at that. "Oh, he was really quite happy to go when the Aurors came for him. Shame. He was lots of fun."

"Bah, good riddance," Harry smiled. The sword was once again warm beneath his fingertips.

"What's that, Harry?" Myrtle breathed.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," Harry said, his smile fading in spite of his sense of pride. "It came to me in the Chamber to help slay the beast."

"Can I see it?"

Metal rang as the sword was drawn, reverberating richly even in the dank toilet. The calligraphic 'Gryffindor' engraved along its blade stood, stark as the day it was forged, shouting to all the world of the greatness of its heritage.

"Beautiful," she muttered, reaching out towards the blade. "Ahh!"

The blade had flashed briefly red where she'd touched it. Harry and Myrtle both stared at her finger. Shockingly red blood dripped steadily from the end, only to evaporate as smoky aether before it could reach the ground. Myrtle's face was contorted with pain, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Yet she wore a brilliant smile.

"I..." she gasped. "I felt it."

"Myrtle, you're bleeding," Harry said urgently.

"I haven't felt anything real for fifty years," she carried on, still sounding utterly tortured. "It... It really hurts, Harry."

"Why are you happy?" Harry said, incredulous. "Will you heal? Are you going to bleed out? Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Myrtle met his eye, and Harry was taken back to that fateful night of Halloween, when the first attack had come. Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party had featured food left to rot for an indeterminate amount of time so as to have the most pungent possible smells and flavours. And even still, the ghosts had only 'almost' been able to taste it.

And then Myrtle began to cry.

"For a moment, it was almost like I was a-a-a-live!"

Harry sighed softly, Hedwig fluttering down to land on his shoulder, head cocked. "Myrtle?"

Myrtle quieted a little, floating down to him.

"Can I see your finger, Myrtle?" said Harry.

She stretched out her hand, tremulously, and Harry found himself patting the sword hilt. When the blood had stopped dripping, Harry had suspected, but he could not have been sure. The wound had healed completely. The Sword of Gryffindor was still a sword, but the same magic it had worked upon him in the Chamber worked upon all. It only permanently injured those it wanted to. This wasn't what he said to Myrtle, though.

"You see that?" said Harry. "You've healed. You might not be able to do all the things you used to, but your body still works. You still have life, it's only a different kind of life."

"But I don't want to be dead!" she said angrily. "I don't deserve to be dead!"

"Everybody dies, Myrtle," said Harry. "You were murdered. It isn't fair and it isn't right. I'll be avenging you every time a bit of Voldemort crops up, and maybe you can help with that. But it won't change what's happened. Sooner or later everyone ends up dead, or a ghost."

"Even you?" said Myrtle.

"One day," Harry smiled.

"Have you ever thought about what it's like?" Myrtle said, sitting in mid-air and swinging her legs idly.

Harry looked at her forlornly. He'd made it through, and he wasn't entirely sure whether that would be a good or a bad thing in the long run.

"I don't need to anything," said Myrtle. "Food, sleep, work... None of it has any meaning. It's an eternity of nothing, Harry. I've spent fifty years in this bloody toilet and the only thing that's been keeping me going is how angry I am."

Harry could feel it. She was a hollow kind of presence in the Force, crimson and pulsing with rage.

"The Headless Hunt found something to do," said Harry. "Being a ghost doesn't mean you can't have friends. It doesn't mean you can't be happy."

"Are we friends, Harry?" said Myrtle.

Harry sighed. If only he had the words for Ginny. "Of course we're friends."

As he walked back to Gryffindor tower, Harry's footfalls grew heavier. He found himself staring sullenly at the floor. Hedwig tried to cheer him, but to no avail, and soon she resigned herself to simply waiting it out. Harry had made the simple mistake of wanting to share what had just happened. And the first person he wanted to talk to was Ginny.

* * *

"I realise that you have been through a lot, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "But if you want to pass the year you will need to focus in class."

Harry gritted his teeth, staring at the blackboard. Perhaps the Jedi were right. He lacked mastery of his mind, and of his emotions.

The more that Harry thought about it, the more real the break-up seemed, and thus the vicious circle kept him locked in the dark corners of his mind.

Why would Ginny break up with him? Why now? After what they had shared... Even if she had changed her mind on the idea of his being trained in a galaxy far, far away, why wouldn't she say something? Or perhaps what the council had said about his being a cipher was behind it...

Clenching his jaw tightly enough that it hurt, Harry stared down at A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Would having this power simply make him persona non grata amongst his friends? Harry's blood was boiling as he let go his train of thought. If he did not hone himself into the most skilled sorcerer he could be, all would be immaterial soon enough. He glared at the book, pushing to see through the haze.

 _'_ _You have missed months of schooling... '_

 _'_ _Slowing down time is a considerable ability.'_

 _'_ _You will need to focus.'_

Harry fixed his eyes and began to read. Spells began to assemble themselves in his brain, and his wand vibrated to perform them. Still he read, as theories fleshed themselves out before him and concepts grew out of ideas. Still, he read. The rage within him had become a dull roar. His blood was afire, but it was life and energy and though he felt it rushing through his arteries his concentration remained absolute.

Harry was so focused on the words in front of him that he didn't notice how much he had read until he found himself touching the back cover.

"Have you determined the number of pages in your textbook, Mr. Potter?" said Professor McGonagall.

Harry frowned at her. He'd been studying. It was faster than he usually read, to be sure, but surely that must have been obvious for her to have let him read for so long.

Looking back down at the page number and seeing 326, Harry's frown deepened. He had remedial potions after this. Why would Professor McGonagall have allowed him to stay past the end of class?

"I read the book, professor," said Harry.

"Excuse me, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Is something wrong?" Harry said, looking back down at the book.

Her mouth forming a thin line, Professor McGonagall gave him a look which quite clearly said that she had run out of patience. "How could I determine the lifespan of a transformation?"

"Divide the power applied in Mansel-seconds by the combined masses of the initial and final objects multiplied by the ratio of their masses, divide by the complexity index, and multiply by Potter's constant," Harry said with a little grin. "If an anchor is used then you have to do some fancy equations I didn't understand, and if you recast you just do the equation again and add, but the complexity index factor is halved."

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a clear ten seconds without saying a word. "This is one of your... Jedi powers?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "What did I do? Are you talking about my memory?"

"Potter, you must have read two hundred pages in the space of ten minutes," said the flabbergasted professor. "With apparently perfect recall."

Harry stared back. "You said to focus. I just..."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, sounding a little faint. "Perhaps this task of ours is more achievable than I had thought. These equations..."

Harry found himself enjoying his first remedial lesson. With Professor McGonagall's undivided attention, he churned through the syllabus as though transfiguration theory were merely child's play. Unfortunately, it could only last for so long.

As Harry trudged down to the dungeons for evening potions, Harry found himself wondering what Snape was being dragged away from to teach him. Considering the man's demeanour, and the dark, dreary conditions he liked to teach in, Harry rapidly reached the conclusion that he did not want to know.

"Mr. Potter," said Snape coldly, turning with a swish of his robe. "Let me make it crystal clear that I am not here by choice."

"That makes two of us, sir," said Harry. "You've made it known that you don't want to teach Gryffindor, let alone me."

Snape's eyes dropped to Harry's hand, where it rested on the hilt of the ancient longsword at his hip. "Ah... Professor Dumbledore told me of the relic's... affinity for you. Still, two points from Gryffindor for bringing your toy to class."

The sword was incensed. Glancing down, Harry was surprised that it had not burst into flame.

Harry sat and unpacked his bag, grateful that the class hadn't started worse.

"Five points from Gryffindor for the attitude, Potter," Snape said softly.

He had jinxed it.

All too predictably, Potions was about as much fun as putting needles under his fingernails. Harry gritted his teeth through repeated insults aimed at him or his family. The sword was little help, as it seemed perfectly willing to part the fiend's head from his body. Instead, Harry stored the feeling, letting the rage simmer within him. He felt like a battery.

Snape, too, was growing more incensed as the lesson progressed. Harry could feel the anger rising in the man, and that fed him too.

Finally, when Harry thought his flesh might sear from the energy coursing through his veins, Snape slammed Harry's textbook shut.

"Sir, I was reading that," said Harry.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class!" Snape snarled.

Harry sighed, his hands twitching from the electric charge he was holding back. "You spent the last five minutes talking about how my father's arrogance got him and those he cared about killed and had now extended to me. That I had the nerve to demand extra lessons to make up for my 'gallivanting'. Well, sir, it was the headmaster and Professor McGonagall who demanded them. And I am learning far more about potions by reading this book than hearing how my dad was some kind of Gryffindor version of your pet, Malfoy."

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for insubordination," said Snape. "Your father was a swine, Potter. He respected nothing and nobody and was lauded for it. His end was likely the first thing he received that he had earned."

"He must have respected my mother," said Harry. Snape turned deathly pale. "She married him after all. Why do you never talk about _her_? I do love hearing stories about my parents."

"Ten more points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "And pick up your quill if you intend to learn something."

"Oh, but I just did," Harry said. "You're telling me that all the hassle you've been giving me, all this hatred for a dead man, is because you had a crush on my mother and she chose him?!"

"You know nothing of me," Snape whispered darkly. "Pick up your quill, Potter."

"I know enough," said Harry. He picked up his quill. "But please, tell me more about how pathetic of a fool my father was. I'm sure it'll get me through your exam with flying colours."

"Every bit as brazen as he, aren't you?" said Snape.

"Was my mother particularly brazen?" said Harry. "Did she strut?"

"Your mother..." Snape's jaw set, and he glared daggers at Harry.

"Oh," said Harry with mock sympathy. "Would talking about my mother be _unprofessional_?"

"Ten more points from Gryffindor," said Snape coolly. "Do be careful, Potter. You'll put your house in last place just from a single class."

Harry stood and put his hand on Gryffindor's sword. "While you played with your cauldrons, I killed a thousand-year-old basilisk and saved the school from the return of Lord Voldemort. You go ahead and take as many points as makes you feel warm and special inside."

Snape's face contorted with rage. For a moment it seemed that Harry had him completely stumped. "Detention. For the rest of the week. Report to Filch at ten o'clock each night."

Harry said nothing. He merely smiled at the man who used to be so very intimidating. It wasn't just swords that he could use to make his enemies suffer.

After a brief period of staring, Snape dismissed him for the evening.

And once again, removed from the pressure demanding him to hold it all together, Harry felt his temples squeezing inward. Pain was an old friend, but not of this kind. He stormed back to his dormitory, not even noticing when Ron tried to hail him in the common room. Taking his Potions book to bed, Harry studied until he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

* * *

"So… Harry looks pretty upset," said Ron.

Ginny glared at him with bloodshot eyes, and he backed up a step.

"Okay, err, you and Harry _both_ look pretty upset," Ron amended. "Look, I know you don't talk about stuff with me. Not anymore at least. Please, help me out. I can't deal with both of you being miserable."

"Just shut up, Ron," said Ginny. "Like you said, I don't talk to you about stuff."

"Hold on a minute," said Ron. "I'm still your brother. And he's my best mate. I care about you two, okay?"

"That's good to know," Ginny spat. "Now piss off."

Ron stood there for a moment, staring at her. She knew she must look a state, clinging to a support post on the bridge over the ravine, her legs dangling over the edge and freezing in the Scottish winds. She hadn't slept or eaten since she broke up with Harry yesterday… Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. At the time, it had seemed like the only thing she could do. So why did she feel so terrible? Was it the constant anguish flooding through from the only boy she wanted to be around? The fact that she'd fucked things up so much that even Ron had taken note? Or that Harry didn't need to understand how or why, and it would be enough for him to know that the both of them were happy?

"This is weird, okay?" said Ron. "The two of you are sickening together. You just need to look at each other and you're all fucking smiles. You're like… you're like… I don't even know what you're like it's that bad. This doesn't make sense!"

"Just fucking go away, Ron!" Ginny said, aiming a flaming hand at him.

Ron's eyes went wide as saucers, and he staggered backwards. "I… fine! Just sit there and the both of you keep getting more and more bloody miserable. What the bloody hell am _I_ supposed to do about it?"

"It doesn't make sense to me either," she muttered as her brother stormed off back to the castle.

Ginny needed help. She wasn't too proud to admit that to herself, not after everything that had happened. But she was in absolutely no mood to be judged. So she went to the one person who was incapable of reproach.

It was only as she climbed the secret passages up to the seventh floor of the castle that Ginny realised how much of a toll her lack of sleep and sustenance had taken upon her body. She was close to collapse by the time she reached the hospital wing. The sight of Hermione, still laying like stone on the hospital bed, drove Ginny on until she was kneeling at her friend's side, holding one cold, rigid hand between hers.

"I'm sorry," said Ginny. She almost snorted in disgust. "That sounds way more pathetic out loud. And I've already apologised a billion times, I know, but… I can never make this up to you, no matter what everyone says. But I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life trying."

Hermione said nothing in return. She only stared, unseeing, at the ceiling, and Ginny was suddenly gripped by the need to cry. Balling her hands into fists, Ginny refused to do so. She wouldn't be undone. Not again.

"I guess it's kinda stupid to come and talk to you right now, but everyone hates me for what I've done," said Ginny. "Or they would hate me if they knew. Fuck, if Ron's capable of a human feeling...

"Probably should've just found a nice little wall to talk to," Ginny muttered, only half serious. "Less risk of Madam Pomfrey finding me and taking me in for therapy. HermioneIbrokeupwithHarry."

For a moment there was deathly silence in the infirmary. Not even a fly's wing-beat disturbed Ginny's reflections.

"You know, for a moment there I really thought you might slap me round the face and call me an idiot," Ginny laughed nervously. "Gods, I hope you don't remember this when you wake up. Ugh, where do I start...?

"The Jedi Council called Harry a cipher," Ginny said, anxiously tearing at Hermione's duvet cover. "They said that he forms bonds, Force bonds... reflexively, and it changes the way people feel about him. They said he's siphoning our will... Hermione, I was terrified! What if I only care for Harry because his... ability got inside my head and _made_ me feel this way?"

Hermione had no answers for her. Rather preoccupied with her own thoughts, Ginny didn't pay any mind to the one-sidedness of the conversation.

"I need to know that it's real," Ginny muttered. "Is that terrible of me? _Can_ I know that it's real?"

Perching on the edge of the bed, Ginny stared, distraught, at Hermione.

"You've tried to shrug it off for my sake," said Ginny. "Pretended that he was just a friend to you. But I understand now. He's _everything_ to us. All of us. Neville sees him as the brother he never had. Both him and Ron would gladly lay down their lives for him, and nearly have. And you... Hermione I've seen the way you look at him."

Ginny sighed, squeezing at her pounding temples.

"What happens when this ability gets some other girl?" she whispered. "Someone prettier? I saw him looking at that new Ravenclaw Seeker, Chang. She's got such long legs… and I bet she's already wearing a bra. I'm only eleven, how can I compete with that?"

Hermione only stared at the ceiling.

"He's Harry Potter," Ginny groaned. "One day, soon, he's going to realise that. And now it's not just the entire country fawning over him. He's going across the universe, Hermione. He's only human. When this cipher thing does to some alien girl what it did to us..."

"How dare you?" Harry growled.

Ginny almost fell as she turned to look, to confirm that it was really him. "Did you follow me here?"

"I came to see my friend," said Harry, fury written all over his face. "This is what the break up was about? Even after all of that with Voldemort? After you nearly died because of these… insecurities?"

"I… wait a minute!" Ginny said, feeling like she'd been pushed over a sheet of ice. "This was a private conversation!"

Harry didn't pay her any mind. "I was so stupid, thinking maybe you were concerned about this Force crap."

"I _am_!" Ginny shouted.

"So why are you back in the same place you always are?" said Harry. "You know, I was genuinely sorry when I found out _how_ he got inside your head. I thought maybe I could've done more about this. But you just have no respect for me at all, do you?"

"W-what?" Ginny gaped.

"You've been in my _head_ ," Harry spat. "You've seen my feelings in a way nobody else can."

"Feelings that might have come from…"

"So _what_?" said Harry. "What fucking difference would it make? I loved you, Ginny. And you _knew_ that. And you give so few shits that you honestly believe I would throw that away just because some other girl bats her eyelashes at me!"

"I…" Ginny said, mouth working soundlessly. She'd never seen Harry so angry, apart from when he faced Voldemort.

"Well, I'm sick of waiting for you to grow up," said Harry. "I've taken enough of this. You wanted a break up? You've got it."

"Harry?" said Ginny.

Everything was happening so quickly. But she watched his face for an eternity in that moment. She saw the pain in his eyes. And she knew then that she had pushed him too far.

"I'm done," said Harry.

He turned on his heel and walked away. Ginny searched desperately for something to say, anything to bring him back. And yet she only choked on her tears as he blasted through the heavy double doors with a wave of an empty hand.

* * *

For weeks Harry did little else than train, study and check in on the Petrified. He sat with Neville or Ron at mealtimes, and often both, for Ginny seemed intent on rejecting the company of any of them. But Harry was sitting beside them, or across from them. Never with them. It was not their fault. But Harry's only true friend now was his training. For without it, no friend of his seemed likely to see another birthday.

A week into Harry's isolation, Hagrid finally returned to Hogwarts, having spent a period recovering from Azkaban prison. Within his eyes, Harry still saw the wellspring of horror, of memories hoped to be long gone. Harry tried to offer him comfort, but found on doing so that he had no words. The two of them sat together for a few hours on that cold Sunday morning, drinking tea and watching Fang whine piteously in the face of their melancholy.

"You were right, Hagrid," said Harry.

"About what?" he said gruffly, staring into his mug.

"There isn't enough human left in Voldemort to die," Harry said.

Hagrid shuddered, his massive shoulders shaking. "And tha's why I heard tell of you goin an' learnin' to fight then?"

"The best person to protect me is me," said Harry. "And Professor McGonagall might be right. If I spend all this time in hospital or worse, I can't protect anyone else either."

An image of Hermione's terrified face flashed in front of his eyes, and Harry twitched.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, 'Arry," said Hagrid. "If yeh need me, I'll always be here."

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. "I've heard that from a lot of people recently."

On numerous occasions he deflected Madam Pomfrey's attempts to offer him counsel, in spite of knowing its potential. On some days, Harry wondered if there was some merit to her and Professor McGonagall's suspicions that he simply enjoyed suffering. If there was, the least he could do was suffer for a good cause. When he collapsed on his bed each night, his wand was still hot and smouldering.

Even through his vastly accelerated teaching programme, Harry was keeping in touch with Master Jinn. The Jedi was making the necessary arrangements to give Harry the best training he could offer as one man. That aspect of his training would wait until the summer, which meant that Harry would at least have time in the day to sleep. Still, without so much going on to keep him busy, Harry might have lost his mind. But busy he was, and progress came without hesitation. Transfiguration was a strong suit, which was in and of itself quite helpful for his endeavours. To begin with, Professor McGonagall had conjured weights and training equipment for him on a daily basis so as not to interfere with the Quidditch team's training regimen (and, Harry secretly suspected, to keep him from being swayed back into practising the sport). Without Quidditch as a release, Harry had thrown himself into training with a vengeance, and his burgeoning talent with transformations had rapidly led to his being able to transfigure his own equipment, something that pleased Professor McGonagall greatly.

As May came to a close, the abandoned classroom Harry used for exercise had begun to smell dank with sweat, but Harry did not mind it. In fact, when his Head of House came to check on him and assured him on entering that she would have the room cleaned regularly, Harry had put his foot down. It focused him, as a constant reminder of the work he was doing. Ron would likely disown him for saying so, but he was beginning to truly enjoy it. The strain and the ache in his body made him feel alive. The blood pounding in his head stopped his mind from wandering. The ragged rush of breath in and out of his lungs deafened him to his own thoughts.

And the Force flowed through him.

Magic was a strength he had not truly appreciated before the trials of the spring. He could feel its surge in his wand. Defence and Charms, his true fortes, displayed that strength in the purest possible way. His Banishing Charm showed just as much raw power as all the charms he cast, shattering a matchstick against the stone wall ten metres away, and Harry felt it, but it was not the same.

When Harry channelled the Force, he felt it in every cell of his body. It was the current of his soul, and Harry could only cast _one_ spell that felt like that.

" _Verdimillious!_ " Harry yelled.

Master Qui-Gon Jinn's eyes went wide as he reached out to catch the electric torrent on his lightsaber blade. "Lightning."

"Is it the same as this?" said Harry.

He did not need to look for a memory this time. He might not ever need to again. Currents of electricity flooded up his arms, sparking and spitting with a rage that was his and his alone.

"They feel the same," Harry admitted.

"How long have you been capable of this?" Master Jinn demanded.

"More than a year," he said.

Master Jinn sighed, examining his lightsaber blade, which flickered slightly with an aftershock. "So many hallmarks of the dark side I see in you. Do you enjoy it?"

"The lightning?" said Harry. "It depends. It's satisfying, but… It's not fun. I haven't used it for fun."

"We will have much to discuss this summer," Master Jinn had said gravely, though Harry could see his relief. Harry was relieved too. He had only seen one person use the ability before. A man under a black robe. A man who had lived in a video cassette at the Burrow. A man Harry might now one day have to face, if he did not outgrow his conscience.

Even without thought to what problems he might now be caught up in, Harry often found himself staring at the lightsaber that hung over his right hip. He was not the only one, as a student carrying any kind of weapon besides their wand was a sensational rarity, so Harry Potter carrying a sword and what appeared to be a baton caused a storm. But even as Harry rejoined his classes one by one, people seemed to keep their distance. Harry had to wonder what the faculty had told them.

At least Ron and Neville were still there, doing their best to be staunch and stoic and all the other things to be expected of good friends and good Gryffindors. Without Ginny, however, it felt pale and empty. He could see how much the separation had affected them. Having to split their time between the two of them, the way they tensed whenever Harry and Ginny were even in the same room as each other… But there was one thing for which the former best friends could not avoid each other.

"Now I want you to give them plenty of space," said Madam Pomfrey with her signature warning tone. "To them, time could have passed very slowly or very quickly, and they will wake sharply almost as soon as the potion touches the back of their throats."

Harry looked briefly about the room as the Healer left. As the victims were all Muggleborn, and precious few of even the magical families were aware of what had transpired in Hogwarts over the first half of the year, only friends and classmates were present. Heads of the students' houses took their parents' place to watch over them. Professors McGonagall and Sprout looked solemn, but Professor Flitwick seemed close to tears at the sight of Penelope Clearwater's frozen form. He was hiding his face behind a pure white handkerchief, and Harry didn't think he would be able to meet the professor's eyes even if he weren't. Harry was right at the centre of this mess, and he deserved whatever retribution these, his fellows, sought from him.

Madam Pomfrey returned carrying two large vials full of a sandy brown-coloured potion. Perhaps to bring a little order to proceedings, it seemed that she had treated Mrs Norris away from her human patients, as some potion was missing from one of the containers. The onlookers waited with bated breath, watching Madam Pomfrey swiftly decant the potion into smaller containers. The potion slipped easily between Colin's frozen lips. The boy swallowed, jerked, and woke with a start, panting as if he had run for miles.

"Colin?" said a dark-haired boy.

Harry did not wish to intrude, even knowing as he did that Colin had been attacked while trying to see him. Guilt twisted at his stomach as he felt the boy's eyes on the back of his neck, but he did not know what he could possibly say to Colin. When he had had some time with his classmates, Harry would apologise. Before that, there was only one person he was waiting for.

Justin Finch-Fletchley awoke quieter even than Colin, but scrambled backwards until he collided with the headboard. He calmed rapidly on seeing Hannah, Ernie and Susan, but his eyes flicked over to Harry. Harry stared back, and the boy, to his credit, did not blush or cower. They both turned to see the curious sight of Nearly Headless Nick being revived.

Rather than try to 'feed' the potion to him, Madam Pomfrey tossed the potion into the air above him, drawing her wand and freezing it in place. With a few swirling motions and muttered incantations, it spread into a fine, even mist that she levitated to rest within his ethereal, blackened form.

" _Indus partecrucis in aetheria,_ " said Madam Pomfrey. " _Imbis!_ "

The vapour glowed briefly before disappearing. As if a plug had been pulled, the darkness in Nearly Headless Nick's body drained inwardly, leaving him in the exact condition Harry remembered from his first day in Hogwarts Castle.

"My word!" said Nick. "A basilisk! Somebody…"

His eyes connected with Madam Pomfrey's, and he looked faintly embarrassed.

"Ah," he said. "I see."

"Thank you, Sir Nicholas," said Professor Sprout. His jaw dropped at her sincerity.

Harry was distracted by Madam Pomfrey approaching Hermione. He stood closest, opposite from the Healer, while Ron, Neville, the twins and Ginny stood in a loose arc such that Ginny stood stiffly by the footboard. The rest of their dorm-mates had wanted to come, but Madam Pomfrey had set a strict limit on visitor numbers at the door. Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati had left at that, offering their best wishes, but Fay and Rionach still stood outside the door with Hagrid, Su Li and various other students who had found themselves out of favour with the cutoff.

Harry's eyes landed on Ginny. Her jaw was clenched as she stared at the mandrake restorative draught being measured out. Harry's stomach iced over, and he turned back to Hermione, and the face that had been haunting his dreams for months.

Her lips could have been made of stone for all that they reacted to the potion being poured through them. The sound of the liquid hitting the back of her throat was unnerving to the point of making Harry's skin crawl, but he watched. The first thing was a spasm of her hand around parchment that was no longer there. Neville and Ron had long since recounted the story of how they had discovered the beast's identity, and that of the one controlling it. If Memory Charms were truly as damaging to the mind as Madam Pomfrey thought, Harry's friends were likely hanging by a thread. Not that that would be any worse than himself.

Hermione's pupils constricted irregularly, the brown fibres in her iris moving erratically as they tried to decide how much light there was or if they should even be working at all. Her lips moved slightly. Breath. Hermione's eyes moved, scrolling down to find Ginny's face.

Hermione screamed.

Harry did not hear what was said next, if anything even was said. His ears rang, and he did not know what to do. A hand grabbed at his robes, and Harry's mind caught up to see Hermione scrambling backwards, looking up in shock to see him standing there. She panned over her friends, gathered to see her wake, and with a breath that shook her whole chest, she began to sob. It was only then that Harry saw that Ginny was no longer there.

"I…" Hermione cried. "She…"

"Shh," said Neville, taking her other hand. "It's over now."

"You're safe," Harry agreed.

Hermione burrowed her face into his stomach, shaking violently as she cried.

Letting out a breath he had not realised he was holding, Harry put a hand on Hermione's back and stared at the wall. This was why he had to go. And if Ginny was going to suddenly turn around and put their personal wants and fears above the safety of their friends, perhaps she was never the person he had thought she was.

Harry barely heard Percy's cry of relief. He did not see him and Penelope kiss in joyful reunion. He stood there with his friends, holding Hermione, dreaming of war.

* * *

 _The Review Responses_

sephchipmunk: Thanks for the heads up.

Dovahkiin1503: Well I shan't confirm or deny anything, but he's certainly on a more neutral path at the moment.

HowlnMadHowie: Some good points on chapter 43. Bear in mind that Harry and Ginny considered messing with the timeline by killing Anakin. They're not really in the mood for it since that train of thought led them to thoughts of infanticide. Also, there's really no reason for Harry/Ginny and Palpatine to know of each other yet. The story of a mysterious boy being responsible for his apprentice's death will no doubt reach Palpatine soon enough, but not in time for anything to come of it. Sorry. That's all for a later date :) The apparent lack of communication is a slight misplay on my part, but it would utterly throw the pacing if I tried to fit all the missing content in. So the conversations that led to this point are only referenced here. That's on me. Again, to be tended later. Harry attacked the diary around the end of November/start of December. The Chamber battle is in February, and Harry and Ginny spend over three weeks recuperating after that. Thanks for reviewing!

Dragon Man 180: All in good time :) Well, not all, but stuff will happen. And yeah, it does suck a bit, right? Cheers!

stars90: Hey, thanks! That was one of the things that came organically from the characters more than being planned :) And yeah, it could be a rough ride.

Kris: He isn't known for his compliance. Thanks for the review.

Gellert99: Certainly does sound dark, doesn't it? Can't really blame someone for getting antsy. Thanks for the reviews.

narratore: Thanks!

AuntMuriel: The Jedi Council would have something to say about it, but from what we've seen, the Force itself keeps pretty mum about people becoming mums. Never fear, that's the least of their worries :) Thanks for the review.

Guestapo: Tell me about it :)

Zanondalf1992: Cheers!


	46. 46 - Epilogue

Neville Longbottom was really getting quite tired. With Professor Dumbledore's manipulations laid bare, events had rapidly spiralled out of control. Ron was trying to pretend that everything was fine and normal, but such a delusion wouldn't wash with Neville.

He shared a brief smile with the newly-resuscitated Hermione. After her run-in with the basilisk, she had developed a kind of anxiety around the library, and had taken to studying in the common room instead. Neville sighed. If only that were the worst of it. If only Ginny could walk into the room without Hermione trembling.

The walk to the marble staircase went by almost without Neville noticing. He had thought, foolishly, that bringing down these demons might make their lives better. Lord Voldemort was dispelled from Quirrell. The basilisk was dead and the diary destroyed. Yet now two of his dearest friends, the pillars of his friendship group, seemed set on never speaking to each other again.

Another sigh.

Neville never would have imagined himself being happy that Harry was not around. Even now he felt as though a part of him were missing, without his best friend's infinite energy and casual sarcasm. But though Neville was loathe to admit it, this was preferable to the fog of enmity that descended whenever Harry and Ginny were in the same room. He could feel their resentment of each other like ice on his bones whenever they saw one another. For the two people he had thought impossible to separate to become so bitterly opposed... It was crushing.

Harry was gone, now. Again. This time to train. To perhaps finally be prepared for the next in the unending stream of horrors that lay in their path. Neville hoped it would be enough. But he could not know. And so he continued down the stairs. For as well that he could feel the emotions of his friends, he could feel something else. Something that called to him. A promise.

At least Harry seemed to be doing well. That was how Neville consoled himself, looking at the tattered remains of what had once been the fastest group of friends he could have dared to imagine. Harry was being trained as some mystic warrior monk, gaining abilities that seemed incredible even to a wizard. He had presumably applied some of this ability to his studies, for he had caught up in them with apparent ease even without Hermione conscious to help him, or Ginny willing...

So easy for his thoughts to spiral downwards. Almost as easy as his feet. Neville smiled slightly to himself as he left the staircase, soon finding himself in front of a portrait of a man in heavy plate armour. A man who somehow had interfered twice where disaster might otherwise have struck, with no obvious motivation. Unless…

"Mr. Potter," said Neville.

The portrait stared at him through his visor.

Neville stared back.

"Nobody has called me that in a long time," said the man.

"Books have longer memories than men," said Neville. "Also I guessed a little bit."

"Indeed," said Potter. "Tell me, how did you figure it out?"

"You knew Gryffindor," said Neville. "You hinted as much. And I figure there's not many well-known friends of Godric Gryffindor who would have told Harry not to rush into a fight, back in first year. I figure there's a well-known person in Hogwarts history who might be quite wary of swords."

The man raised his hands to his helmet.

"Avitorius Potter," said Neville. "Scarface."

The helmet came off, and Neville's breath caught.

The face beneath was handsome, with shaggy auburn hair and deep brown eyes. But the face was cleft almost in two by a deep scar that ran over the left eye all the way to the jaw.

"I helped you," said Potter. The tone was neutral, but Neville could tell that the man was upset.

"You did not have to prove me right," Neville pointed out. "I think, because you know I'm not here to make a fuss of who you are."

"Perhaps," the man agreed. "But if you are here for what I believe you are, you brave, foolish child, I think perhaps you should know who exactly you are dealing with. My father, after all, was not stupid. He did not wander blindly into this arrangement. He was a warrior, my father, and with such power gathered here he knew betrayal was inevitable. His lineage is recorded in no literature. His wife's name lost to history. His son attending the school he built as a common-born orphan, to later be cast out and shamed for dishonouring his patron."

Neville's feelings had led him back to this portrait. They had not warned of what he might learn.

"Then Harry..." Neville whispered.

"Wields the sword he was always meant to hold," said Avitorius Potter. "By every law of man. And my father's final victory is complete. He has won the war for legacy."

"Gryffindor..." said Neville. "I am only a child. But I have fought at the side of your heir against forces that would have destroyed all that was built in your name. And I will do so again."

"That you will."

Avitorius Gryffindor certainly sounded a thousand years old then.

"I may not be ready," said Neville. "But I petition to be the next steward of Hogwarts. To fight and die for this school, for its students, and for the future of my nation."

"Brave and foolish," said Avitorius. "My father would have liked you. He would not have given you stewardship. Do you even know the responsibility? What it would entail?"

"In the end, does it matter?" said Neville. "I should already have died in its defence."

"It matters because you are not ready," said Gryffindor angrily. "To give up a part of your soul... We will not allow a child so young to make the sacrifices of stewardship. But we will aid you."

Neville closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "What would you have me do?"

The secret passageway seemed to wind down and down forever. Nothing existed to mark it as any different from Hogwarts' many other passages, and as he continued ever downwards, Neville's head began to spin from the sheer repetitiveness. If he ever gained true mastery of the broomstick, Neville swore he would carry one everywhere he went. Yet even as he began to despair at the apparently infinite number of steps, the staircase opened out into a hall. Neville knew from the moment his foot hit the floor that this was somewhere special.

Though it would have to reside a hundred metres below the school, the hall must have been as large as the Great Hall above. Its purpose, at first glance, might have appeared to be as a museum. Rows upon rows of artifacts filled the place, varying from armoured robes to heavy books. Neville noted them, but stifled his curiosity, for at the centre of the room was a clear island, bathed in a dim golden light. This, he knew, was the true kernel of the hall. A pedestal at the very centre caught most of the golden glow, which shimmered curiously over it. Cautiously, Neville approached.

He was ten paces away when he froze, crying out in shock. For surrounding the pedestal, radiating to the four points of the compass, were gold engravings upon the granite floor. The first, as Neville approached, revealed quickly to Neville exactly where it was that he stood.

Hér álecgaþ Salazar Slytherin

Brégnes ecgaþ ænig méce

Eardede háwian hundtwelftiġ seofon wintera

Even as Neville looked at the words, they shimmered and shifted.

Here lies Salazar Slytherin

Fear sharpens any blade

Lived to see one hundred and twenty seven winters

Neville had stumbled upon that which generations upon generations of scholars never found - the final resting place of the Hogwarts founders. Much as he wanted to stand and pay his respects, however, at such close range the pedestal called to him with a near-irresistible pull. Set into its surface was a basin, filled with perfectly clear water. Reaching out, Neville submerged his hands in the water, finding it pleasantly cool. The golden glow about the area intensified the moment his fingers breached the surface. For a moment, there was nothing. The water did not so much as steam as it flashed straight to boiling and back again, searing Neville's flesh and making him clench his teeth together so as not to scream. But the pain brought clarity.

In that moment, Neville felt a wellspring of power flooding his very being. He had been bound to Hogwarts' own magic. Stranger still, Neville could feel the strength of the castle spreading from the pedestal, energy radiating away like a vast spider web. And this focus was being fed from four distinct cores around him. Neville stared at the graves, silent and undisturbed. This room could never be breached. More than the founders' bodies were at stake - this hall held the power source for every ward and enchantment on the castle grounds. Lifting his hands from the basin, Neville blinked slowly.

His hands were completely dry.

Stewards of Hogwarts had to give up part of their soul, Avitorius Potter had said. Neville took a deep breath, and went to kneel at the grave of his patron. The treasures of the hall could wait.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected Jedi training to be like. Of course he had thought back to Luke Skywalker fending off a drone with a lightsaber while his eyes were covered, or free running through the swamp jungles of Dagobah, but Master Jinn had implied a fair bit of academia and philosophy. So it was quite the surprise to find himself, on the eighth day of his expedition, holding a handstand.

"Feel the Force flowing through you," said Master Jinn. "The ground beneath you, the air around you... The Force connects you to everything."

Harry tried to do as he had been taught - to let go of his conscious thoughts and allow the Force to guide him. But even as that wordless voice grew louder, so too did the burning in his muscles. Harry hit the ground with a grunt.

"It's really tiring," Harry said. "I'm sorry."

Master Jinn shook his head, smiling. "With what muscle do we use the Force?"

"We don't," Harry said automatically, grimacing as he did so.

"It is through your mind," said Master Jinn. "This is the first reason why we train Jedi from a young age. You have learned to see the world in a certain way, and it is difficult for you to change your perspective. If you are ever to make use of the connection you have, you must learn to let go your conceptions of the physical world."

"How?" said Harry, flabbergasted.

"How do you accomplish anything truly new?" said Master Jinn. "Study, introspection and practise."

Harry chose not to point out that he didn't know what introspection was, but from the nature of Master Jinn's smile he didn't think he had to. And so he set himself to practising.

There came a point at about an hour in where Harry began to feel that he was simply going through the motions. He fully expected Master Jinn to stop him then, but the man simply watched. And Harry's mind wandered. He went back to his grand journey through the stars, and visions of the Milky Way. Rocketing past galaxy after galaxy, Harry found the familiar spiral of the galaxy far, far away. But this time he was entering much closer to the galactic core. As the stars spread wide before him, and planets became discernible, Harry instantly recognised the buzzing planet-city of Coruscant, with countless ships forming what could pass for a dust cloud around it.

But just as Harry was getting a good look at the bustling galactic hub, he was propelled away as if by some hyper lightspeed pistol. From planet to planet he bounced, at speeds that made even him want to retch if he looked at the wrong things. But all the while, the dark heart of the galaxy loomed larger - the black hole. So large was it, and so brilliant were its ejections, Harry almost didn't notice himself slowing down. But he had come upon a cluster of smaller black holes, and these lay directly in his path. Moving too fast to possibly evade them, Harry barely had time to gasp. Time and space warped around him, and Harry saw the shallow path, bordered on all sides by certain death.

Gravity pulled him through the unholy formation, accelerating him even further beyond the realms of feasibility and catapulting him out at the other side. Many star systems lay in front of him now, but there was one that held significance. A star that somehow meant everything.

It loomed ever larger in his vision, searing his mind with pulsing fire, until Harry veered off violently. He was plummeting through the atmosphere before he could register its Earth-like features. There was no burning re-entry. Harry simply punched through the cloud cover like a particularly large calibre bullet, the lush, green ground suddenly approaching much too fast. Faces began flashing before his eyes, too fast to recognise. And just as Harry hit the grass, a pulsing blade of plasma erupted in brilliant purple.

Harry collapsed, hearing several pronounced thuds around him. A squirrel-like creature squeaked and scampered away.

"What did you see?" said Master Jinn gently.

"I think..." Harry muttered. He was seeing the strange images everywhere as though they were burned onto his retinas. "I think there's somewhere that we need to go."

* * *

Aaaaaaaaaaand it's done. The sequel will be arriving soon enough, and will open on a world quite meaningful to the Jedi Order :)

zmanjz: Yeah, she wasn't prepared for this at all; neither of them were.

Gellert99: Occupational hazard when you're a kid in this world :/ Don't count her out though, she's taken a lot of blows in quick succession. Thanks for the review :)

stars90: Well I'm looking at their cards and it's nothing flattering. But Qui-Gon is too empathetic to box their ears, and Hermione's in a worse mental state than Ginny right now so it doesn't mean much yet :)

Artarais1991: She has so many sevens in her bloodline it would be more remarkable for her not to be exceptional. And there's a passage earlier in the story where Ron and Ginny talk about the Weasley lineage and the potency of Weasley girls, especially when they are seventh born. I mean there's a lot to this but that's much of what's been explained so far :) Thanks for the review.

Dragon Man 180: Hahaha, I think Hermione will be fine. She is Hermione.


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